


symphony for improvisers

by narada-talis (sarensen)



Series: symphony for improvisers [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutual dumbassery, Post-Season/Series 07, Purring Keith (Voltron), Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Slow Burn, canon-typical racism against galra, canonverse, keith's galra traits, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-12-26 03:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarensen/pseuds/narada-talis
Summary: A photo taken at just the wrong moment sparks rumors of a human-Galra alliance, rumors which the Paladins will have to authenticate if the Coalition wants to keep its alien allies. Only problem is, thereisno human-Galra alliance. Shiro and Keith decide to fake being a relationship until the press forgets about them and moves on to the next sensation. Little do they know things are about to get a lot more complicated when a camera crew shows up to film a documentary of their day-to-day lives…





	1. For the sake of the Coalition

A sea of cameras flash after Allura’s statement, illuminating the profiles of the Paladins in stark light. Shiro smiles, grin-and-bear-it, because he knows it’s a necessary evil. None of them enjoy being in the spotlight - well, except maybe for Lance. The others are here because they know how important it is that the universe sees them right now.

Their victory over Sendak was only the first step. Freeing the colonies held by his remaining forces, taking back their land from the Galra, that’s where the real work begins. And they can’t do it alone. They need support, and a lot of it. So for them to rally what remains of Earth’s forces, they need to give them someone to rally behind. They may have won the first battle, but the war will be meaningless without showing the population of Earth the people who are fighting it. Here are your Paladins, here are your Garrison forces. These are the people who are fighting for you. Now, it’s time to fight for them.

So they have press conferences. They make appearances in small communities. They make sure to be seen assisting the efforts to rebuild ruined cities and communities. It’s not quite the Voltron Show - Earth’s situation is too dire for that. The time for lightheartedness has passed. Now is desperation. Now is scrambling to survive. To reconnect. Now is sending search parties to look for loved ones and finding only corpses. Now is the grit of it, after the battle, and if they’re to come through this, they need the support of Earth’s people.

Shiro takes a sip of water from the bottle in front of him, identical to those of the other Paladins spaced out behind the long table, and squints into the bright spotlights. He can’t quite make it out, but he knows the crowd is huge by the constant rustling of clothes and interspersed coughs echoing around the hall.

“Can we have the next question, please?” Coran asks from where he is standing to the side of the table with a datapad in hand and a small microphone clipped to his collar. Of course he’s leading the proceedings. There was no question in anyone’s mind as to who their lead representative should be when the idea of the press conferences first came up. Shiro can’t think of anyone better.

A chair scrapes back in the crowd as someone stands. “This question is for Commander Shirogane.”

Shiro lifts one hand to shield his eyes, peering dimly at what he can see of the reporter. He has dark red skin and pointed ears. An Arielian. “Go ahead.”

“Commander, I think it’s fair to say that there’s one question on everyone’s minds that we haven’t yet talked about today. You’ve been silent on this matter so far, but for there to be any real kind of peace on Earth - and in the universe, for that matter - could you tell us in more detail about this new Human-Galra alliance?”

Shiro squints at the reporter, then turns to look at the Paladins in confusion. They seem just as disoriented: down the row from him, Hunk is scrunching up his face, mouthing “ _Human-Galra what now?_ ” and Lance and Allura are exchanging worried looks. Keith is frowning in the direction of the crowd - though he’s been frowning for the whole conference, so far, so he basically just looks the same. Pidge is exchanging frantic whispers with Coran, who in turn is shrugging helplessly, fingers flying over his datapad.

Shiro looks back into the crowd. “I’m sorry, could you elaborate? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“It’s all over the columns, Commander,” the reporter replies. “I’m sorry, but if you’d been meaning to hide it, the cat’s out of the bag.”

Shiro chuckles a bit nervously. “Hide it? Hide what? I really don’t—“

“Shiro,” Coran interrupts, hurrying over to his chair. Shiro turns away from the crowd as he leans over, shoving his datapad under Shiro’s nose. “You’d better see this.”

Shiro takes the datapad trepidatiously. He has a feeling that whatever this is, it can’t be good. It’s a news article from an online gossip column, dated only a few quintans ago. The headline reads, “ _Earth and Daibazaal unite! Garrison Commander and Black Paladin form Human-Galra alliance_ ”

Underneath it is an article filled with what is probably wild speculation and conjecture with a healthy dose of sensationalism, in the way of gossip columns all over the Galaxy. But the photo accompanying the text is what catches Shiro’s attention. It’s one of him and Keith, taken after they’d won one of the smaller skirmishes at a Galra-run facility recently.

On the photo, the staggered ruins of the facility are barely visible behind waves of billowing smoke and floating ash. A fire caused by the various explosions that made their victory possible tints the whole scene in orange and yellow. The blue-and-red of one of Voltron’s legs is just visible to one side. But most noteworthy is what is front and center of the photo: it’s him and Keith hugging, a desperate kind of embrace in the relief and receding adrenaline after the fight. It’s Keith up on his tiptoes with his arms wrapped around Shiro as if he’s never going to let go, the kind of full-body hug where every part of them is touching. And… one of Keith’s hands is resting just too low on Shiro’s hip, fingers splayed open over his ass.

Thing is, Keith has always been very physically affectionate. For all the distance he likes to keep between himself and other people, when it comes to those he trusts, those he loves, physical touch is as much a way for him to express it as the softness in his voice or the small, private smiles he shares with them. Shiro’s gotten used to it. He and Keith have always been comfortable touching each other. Back in the Garrison, they’d wrestle and spar and punch each other on the shoulder. They’d fall asleep on top of each other in late-night study sessions, or chase each other around the locker rooms in just their towels. And it was just the way they were.

Much later, after Kerberos and in the confusion of their new lives as Paladins of Voltron, Shiro realized what he felt for Keith ran much deeper than simple friendship or the brotherhood of battle or even the comfort of a home left behind. The physical affection - the small touches and brief hugs and brushes of their thighs together under the table, innocent though they were - became so much harder to bear. But he bore it, in silence, and felt every small touch chip away at him until he was completely raw for Keith.

He tried to let go. Tried to turn elsewhere. But it was something he couldn’t run from, and, in the end, didn’t want to. He gave in to it, let it consume him until he couldn’t remember a time when he  _didn’t_  want Keith.

So it became this. He lets Keith touch him. He revels in it, even as it pains him. In brief moments of weakness, he imagines what it would be like for those touches to become purposeful, for those slim fingers to travel over his back and lower, to pull him close with intent. He’s so used to this endless cycle of allowing and wanting more that a touch like this, like Keith’s hand on his ass in this photo, doesn’t strike him as even slightly unusual.

But he can just imagine what it must look like to the others.

When Coran leaves to show the other Paladins the article, Shiro sneaks a glance at Keith. He’s staring down at the table unmovingly, and doesn’t meet his eyes. His face is unreadable. Shiro thinks,  _he’s seen the photo. He knows._

“This…” Shiro starts weakly, speaking into the long-neck microphone in front of him as he turns back to the crowd. He has to clear his throat. “This isn’t…”

“We’ve all seen you and the Black Paladin together, Commander.” The reporter seems adamant to follow this through. “In all your appearances together, whether it be filmed fight footage or public appearances in the relief effort, you’re always together. Always touching. The photos only prove it. Why are you trying to hide your relationship?”

“These photos,” Allura’s clear voice interrupts, “Are circumstantial at best. They do not prove anything, much less the existence of any kind of Human-Galra alliance. And on top of that, they are an invasion of our privacy.”

“She’s right,” Lance agrees, “Even if they were together, it wouldn’t be any of your biznack.”

“I’m sorry,” the reporter fields, “but I’m confused as to what exactly it is you’re denying. Are you denying the existence of a relationship between the commanders of the IGF Atlas and Voltron, or the fact that the Black Paladin is half-Galra, and that even if there were a relationship, it wouldn’t mean an alliance between us and our enemies?”

“The leaders of planet Krell released a statement last week,” a new voice says from somewhere to the right and back of the hall, “Saying they were very pleased with this development, and that the relationship between the commanders of the Atlas and Voltron is the only reason they joined the Coalition.”

All of the Paladins turn as one to stare at Shiro.

He has to think fast. He takes a sip of water to hide his hesitation, knowing that in situations like these, it’s more important to appear confident than to actually have any idea what you’re doing. He has to be smart, he has to be diplomatic. Right now, the most important thing is damage control. He rearranges the words in his head a few times before settling on: “At this point in time, the Voltron Coalition can neither confirm nor deny the rumours of an alliance between humans and the Galra.”

A roar of voices fills the room accompanied by the sounds of multiple chairs scraping back as reporters scramble to their feet. Cameras flash madly.

Shiro holds out one hand placatingly, raising his voice above the din. “But rest assured, you will be the first to know of such an alliance, if one were to be created.”

“Does this mean there will not be peace between our two races?” someone shouts from the crowd.

“Will the war be brought to Earth?”

“Was Sendak’s invasion only the first wave?”

“And what about your relationship with the Black Paladin? Can you give us a statement?”

“The purpose of today’s conference,” Shiro says, keeping his voice firm in a no-arguments-brooked tone, “Was to answer your questions about the Coalition and our ongoing efforts to clear Earth of all remaining Galra activity. To our knowledge, there have been no indications of another invasion. If the Galra attack again, we’ll handle it. As far as the private lives of myself and the Voltron Paladins is concerned, that subject is not open for discussion.”

“But the people need to--”

“Thank you all very much for coming today,” Coran interrupts, his clear voice silencing the din following in the wake of Shiro’s statement. He ushers the Paladins out of their chairs as he speaks, tugging on Shiro to get him up as well. “This concludes our press conference. Any further official statements will be released to you all via the usual channels.”

A roar of protest follows them off stage, muffled by the closing of the backstage door. The small meeting area they pour into is dimly lit and all beige, an unassuming space interrupted by drooping plants clearly meant to calm nerves before a big appearance. Right now, it isn’t working.

Pidge leans against the door when it closes behind them, looking stunned. “What… just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Allura answers, pacing and gnawing on one fingernail.

“Where did that even come from?” Hunk joins in from where he’s flung himself onto the couch, “I mean, it’s just a photo. Keith’s always touching Shiro, anyway. Doesn’t mean it has to be like  _that_.”

_Like what?_  Shiro is tempted to ask.

“Who knows?” Coran sighs, tiredly, “People have a tendency to take these things and run with them. A single word, the smallest gesture… With as many eyes as there are on you Paladins, these things can escalate. They can become things they never were. And before you know it, the situation has puffed up like a Trufalian meringue.”

“But a human-Galra alliance?” Pidge articulates every word incredulously, “How do you get there from… from a photo of Keith grabbing Shiro’s butt?”

“Hey!” Shiro protests, but without any real strength behind it. Even he can’t deny the truth.

Keith’s quiet, rough voice interrupts them all from where he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. It’s the first he’s spoken since it all went down. “... ‘biznack’?”

Everyone looks at Lance, who shrugs. “It’s like, you know… quiznack. But for business. Biznack.” He waves one hand. “It’ll catch on.”

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose, sinking down on the couch next to Hunk. Hunk touches his shoulder in sympathy, saying, “This is inappropriate on so many levels.” He doesn’t just mean Lance’s bad humor.

“Look,” Pidge reasons, pushing her glasses up with that look she gets when she’s trying to solve a puzzle, “How important is our alliance with planet Krell?”

“Unfortunately, invaluable,” Allura sighs.

“And this… relationship between Shiro and Keith is the only reason they joined the Coalition?”

“If the reports are to be believed, yes.”

Everyone turns to look at the couple in question, wheels turning almost visibly in their heads. Shiro stands up, alarmed. They couldn’t seriously be considering… But as his eyes flit between Pidge’s resolute face and Allura’s sympathetic one, he realizes that they are. “No. Oh no. No.”

Coran, entirely too chipper, claps Shiro on the back. “Then you’ll just have to pretend you really are in a relationship! At least until this all blows over.”

Pidge says, “He’s right,”, because apparently she loves seeing Shiro squirm.

The rest of them talk right over Shiro’s protests, saying things like “Come on, how bad could it be?” and “It’ll be a challenge!” and “Especially since Keith’s the one you’ll be romancing”.

It’s Lance’s “It’ll be just like the Voltron Show!” that finally makes Shiro snap.

“What part of this is in any way like the Voltron Show?” he demands, maybe a bit too loudly. Everyone goes quiet. They don’t know. They don’t know about his feelings for Keith, hidden away so deeply for so long. They can’t know.

This is the worst possible outcome.

Shiro exchanges looks with all of them before his eyes come to rest on Keith. He’s still exactly where he was, arms crossed against the wall, away from the others. He hasn’t said a single word, aside from “biznack”, since this all began.

Shiro goes over to him, resting his hand on his shoulder, well aware that simple touches like these were the cause of all this trouble. “Keith. How do you feel about this?”

Keith still isn’t meeting his eyes. He shrugs, and turns away from him, and says, “It’s fine.”

Shiro blinks. “It’s… fine? You sure? I’ll only agree to this if you are one hundred percent okay with it. You gotta give me something more than just ‘fine’.”

“Shiro.” Keith looks at him, finally looks at him, meeting his eyes fully and with that unique Galra-purple intensity of his. “It’s fine. If they need us to be in a relationship for the sake of the Coalition, I’m one hundred percent okay with it.”

He walks away, leaving Shiro staring after him, conflicted.  _For the sake of the Coalition…_

The words echo in his head, rippling out in waves of hurt as though Keith were a rock plunged into the pool of every feeling Shiro has ever hidden from him.

“Are we really doing this?” Hunk asks into the silence left in Keith’s wake.

“For the sake of the Coalition,” Shiro says, heart hammering in his chest.


	2. Kiss first, ask questions later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ambassador antagonizes Keith by making some derogatory remarks about the Galra. Shiro defuses the situation in an unconventional manner. Coran introduces them to the documentary camera crew.
> 
> Excerpt:
>
>> “Ah,” Norgub says disdainfully as Keith’s entire body tenses up, seeming ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, “Spunky little half-breed, aren’t you?”
>> 
>> That does it. Keith lunges. Shiro springs forward, catching him around the waist. Time seems to slow down to still-frames, jerky motion-capture movements as he pulls Keith tight against his chest and does the first thing he can think of:
>> 
>> He smashes their mouths together.

Shiro doesn’t see Keith again until the next day. There’s a big fundraiser at the Garrison, a fancy gala dinner complete with hors d'oeuvres in little golden plates, with forks about five sizes too small for Shiro’s prosthetic fingers to grasp. He forgoes the food in favor of a glass of champagne, and then another, searching around the room for the Black Paladin. 

The Garrison mess hall has been converted into a ballroom, the metal chairs and tables pushed against the walls to open up a large space in the center, now filled with dignitaries and ambassadors and officers dressed in their finest. Silver and gold ceiling drapery casts shimmering reflections on the walls. Someone even hung a mirror ball.

The other Paladins are all there, resplendent in their color-coded Garrison uniforms. Sparkling drinks in tall flutes exchange hands to a backdrop of classy jazz music played by a live band, as though they hadn’t just been liberated from a Galra camp last week. 

Shiro carefully takes another delicate glass of champagne from a passing tray, and then one more with his human hand upon consideration. He’s had a few already. He gets the feeling he’s going to need a few more. 

“Hey there, big guy,” Lance appears at his side, patting his shoulder lightly, “You ah, getting your own party started over here?”

“I’m fine, Lance,” Shiro gripes, handing him one already-emptied glass and starting on his next, “Just nervous. This is the first time Keith and I are appearing in public together after Coran’s public announcement of our… relationship this morning. And Keith isn’t even here.”

Lance nods sympathetically. “I get it, man. But you don’t have to worry about him.”

Shiro glances at Lance from the corner of his eye. “You don’t think he… hates me for this?”

“Keith? Hate you? Those two concepts don’t even make sense in the same sentence.” Lance squeezes his shoulder. “Come on, Shiro. You gave him that very sexy scar of his trying to kill him, and he still jumped out of a flying Lion to cut down a Galra three times his size to save you. You’re fine.”

“Uh.” Shiro frowns. “Thanks. I think.”

“No problemo. Speak of the devil... There’s mullet-head now.”

Shiro follows the direction of Lance’s pointed finger and freezes when his eyes land on Keith. He’s seen him a million times before in his red Garrison uniform of course, shoulders squared back and hair neatly combed if still flopping over his eyes. But there’s something different about him tonight. Maybe it’s the champagne talking, or the dim lighting and soft music in the hall, or the fact that they’re supposed to be dating now, but Keith somehow looks different than usual. Shiro doesn’t know how to describe it, other than simply that Keith is… gorgeous. He knew this before, of course. But he’s never been made this keenly aware of the fact. His heart picks up a beat, and he has to lick suddenly dry lips.

“Commander Shirogane!” a loud voice calls from too close by. Shiro startles, Altean fingers snapping his remaining champagne flute cleanly in half. The fine glass shatters on the black-and-white checkered tiles of the Garrison mess. Golden liquid spatters on his boot. 

“Whoa there,” the voice continues, revealing itself to belong to a portly dignitary from a planet whose name escapes Shiro right now. “Everything alright, Commander?”

“Fine,” he assures the man, bending to collect glass shards as best he can and dropping them onto the tray of the attendant stopping to help, “... I may have had one too many.”

“Completely understandable, young man. Completely understandable. Today is cause for celebration, after all. Big news for you and the Black Paladin. One understands congratulations are in order.”

Shiro straightens, glancing around covertly for Lance who has, conveniently, disappeared. “Thank you, sir. Though it’s older news for us than it is for the rest of the world.”

This is, technically, true.

“So it is,” the man chortles. “Brave thing you did, going public after that disastrous press conference yesterday. You made the right choice.”

“Thank you. Again, sir.”

To his vast relief, he sees Keith approaching from across the room. His face is totally blank, which, while it is an improvement over the murderous glare from the day before, fills Shiro with apprehension. He puts on his best smile, holding out his hand toward the Paladin and trying not to sound too relieved. “Keith, excellent timing. Come and meet Ambassador…?”

“Norgub, from planet Crydor,” the ambassador fills in, raising his voice slightly to be heard over a swell in the music.

Keith squeezes Shiro’s hand lightly, silently checking in. Shiro squeezes back, assuring him everything’s okay. Meanwhile, Keith addresses the ambassador with a formal, “Pleased to meet you, Ambassador.”

“Just Norgub, please,” Norgub waves the formality away. “I’m not used to the Galra being so polite.”

Shiro blinks at the underhanded jab. Next to him, he can almost physically see Keith’s hackles rise as he says through gritted teeth, smile fixed firmly in place, “Well, maybe you just don’t know that many Galra.”

“Certainly, certainly,” Norgub chuckles, his chins jiggling. “One hasn’t had the chance, what with the war going on. Not many opportunities to talk to one’s enslavers, I’m sure you understand.”

Shiro gives Keith’s hand a warning squeeze. Turns out he needn’t have worried: Keith keeps his voice low when he replies, “I’m sorry for what happened to your people. That’s exactly why Voltron and the Atlas are out there, fighting. To make sure atrocities like that never happen again.”

Only those who know him best would be able to hear the dangerous edge to his words. 

“Naturally, naturally,” the ambassador placates, waving his hands, “Of course, those efforts are much appreciated. It’s just that some concerned citizens of the Coalition couldn’t help but wonder, what with the news and all… Well, we were wondering if it’s really wise to have a Galra representing our interest in protecting our planets from, well, the Galra.”

“Half-Galra. And the Blade of Marmora have been on your side, fighting against the Galra for longer than me,” Keith points out, voice starting to get rough.

“Assuredly. However, concerned citizens also wonder if it’s wise to trust them.”

“Now hang on,” Shiro interrupts him. Time to put a stop to this. “The Blades have proven their trustworthiness more than enough times. They’ve bled for this cause. Died for it.”

“Which is more than can be said for Crydor’s armies,” Keith growls.

Norgub narrows his beady eyes at them. “And there it is. Trust a Galra to throw around baseless accusations given the slightest opening. This is exactly why we can’t put our trust in a Coalition that has Galran members. They’ll turn on us the first opportunity they get. I move that the protection of Earth and all the other planets should be left solely to the IGF Atlas.”

Keith growls. He actually _growls_ , eyes flashing yellow and pupils thinning to slits. A glimpse of sharp fangs before he shuts his mouth with an audible snap, visibly reigning himself in. Shiro tenses, gripping his hand tightly. He can feel the sharpened points of claws digging into his skin. This isn’t good.

Around them, a crowd has started gathering, murmuring either in agreement with the ambassador’s statement, or in awe at Keith’s changing appearance. From somewhere behind them, Shiro can just see the top of Coran’s orange head. He’s waving his arms, gesturing for Shiro to stop this before it gets entirely out of hand. This isn’t good at all. Shiro frowns.

“Ah,” Norgub says disdainfully as Keith’s entire body tenses up, seeming ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, “Spunky little half-breed, aren’t you?”

That does it. Keith lunges. Shiro springs forward, catching him around the waist. Time seems to slow down to still-frames, jerky motion-capture movements as he pulls Keith tight against his chest and does the first thing he can think of:

He smashes their mouths together.

_Act natural, Shirogane_. _We’re supposed to be in a relationship, right? Kissing is a natural thing for people in relationships to do._

He pulls Keith against his chest tightly, ignoring the startled gasps and exclamations from the crowd around them and deepening the kiss. The people want this, right? For the sake of the Coalition. And if it gets Norgub off their backs as well, well, that’s killing two choferiaks with one Yalexian verg. 

At first, Keith is stiff with shock. A few long moments pass where his fingers talon above Shiro’s arm, frozen with something close to fear. Then he melts against him, the hand that was pushing him away going slack against his chest. The softest hint of sound in the back of his throat, and his lips start moving against Shiro’s, gently at first but with increasing desperation. And his mouth is so hot, and he tastes so good, and surrounded by his warmth and his smell it’s simultaneously better than anything Shiro could have imagined, and unlike anything he thought it would be. His heart leaps into his throat, a pleasant tingle spreading through his body from the point where their lips touch.

He lets his eyes slip shut, aware only of the way Keith’s body aligns with his, hip to thigh, the weight of him in his arms, the light brush of his tongue against his lips. The rest of the world narrows down to the tickle of Keith’s bangs on his cheeks and the soft rustle of his uniform as he presses up higher, trying to get closer.

Shiro almost forgets it’s all just an act, until Keith pulls away and the Garrison mess hall comes rushing back in around them. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and opens his eyes. Keith looks human again, his Galra features receded. In the short glimpse he sees of Keith’s face before he hides in Shiro’s neck, he seems to be redder than usual. Shiro can feel him vibrating softly against his chest, a low rumble trembling between them. He’s heard Keith purr before - all the Galra do - but this is his first time _feeling_ it. It rises and falls with Keith’s breathing, like a little engine buried deep inside him is turning over. Warmth spreads through Shiro from where their chests touch, all the way down to his toes.

He feels mortified. He knows they have to pretend, for the good of their alliance with the Krellians. But he just kissed Keith. _Keith_. Kissed him like they were old lovers, like in every fantasy Shiro’s ever had about him. In front of everyone. He knows they’re supposed to be dating, but there’s putting up a front, and then there’s steamrolling right over Keith’s personal boundaries without checking with him if it was okay first. If Keith didn’t hate him before, he definitely does now.

“Gentlemen, please,” Allura swoops in, all smiles and gentle touches, taking the ambassador of Crydor lightly by the elbow. “We all know how it feels to be in a new relationship. The passion of it. I’m sure Commander Shirogane and Paladin Keith would appreciate some time to themselves. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She doesn’t give Norgub a chance to say otherwise, tugging him and several of the closer members of the crowd along with her. She talks right over any protest the ambassador might have made, all while making it seem like he’s the lucky one to be in her company. “Now, do allow me to take you on a tour of the IGF Atlas. It’s every bit as magnificent as you’ve seen on the holo-net, I assure you.”

Her voice trails away as her entourage disappears around the corner. As always, she is resplendent in her ability to be the center of attention. With the commotion seeming to die down and the sensation of the moment over, the rest of the dignitaries and officers disperse as well, leaving Shiro and Keith in a little bubble of silence on their own in the center of the floor.

In the background, the soft jazz continues, syrupy thick and mellow. After a few long moments, Keith finally pulls away, staring down at where his hand still rests on Shiro’s chest. It feels suddenly cold between them, and Shiro already misses the steady vibrations of his purring.

He waits for Keith to say something. He doesn’t. Eventually the silence stretches on so long that Shiro’s nerves kick in. It’s just Keith; there’s no reason to be anxious. And yet Shiro’s palm starts to sweat, butterflies rolling in his stomach.

“Hey…” he says softly, waiting for Keith to look up and meet his eyes, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Keith exhales softly, face completely unreadable, eyes fixed somewhere behind Shiro’s hip. 

Shiro frowns. “Keith, I…”  
  
“You were just doing what needed to be done, right? For the sake of the Coalition.”

He pulls out of Shiro’s grasp, turning and stalking off to the doorway. Shiro’s hand hovers in the air after him for a second, before he sighs, running it through his hair. Keith’s receding back is tense, his posture the opposite of welcoming. But Shiro can’t leave it like that.

For the sake of the Coalition. Shiro’s really starting to hate those words. Steeling himself, he follows the flashes of red and gold and black through the crowd and out of the hall, jogging a bit to catch up. 

They’ve left the mess and are halfway to crew quarters when he reaches him. With everyone at the party, the long, orange-beige corridors of the Garrison are quiet. Their boots echo off the walls, one set of strides purposeful and heavy, the other hurried and urgent.

He corners Keith as he’s about to pass the training rooms, catching him by the sleeve and pulling him to a stop. Keith frowns back at him, crossing his arms defensively.

“Hey,” Shiro says, quiet but authoritative. “What happened back there… we should talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” 

“What’s there…? Keith. We kissed. And then you just… walked out on me. I need to know if you’re okay.”

Keith sighs, going slack. He drops his arms, looking away. “Do we have to do this right now?”

Shiro pushes him back against the wall, pressing his Altean hand next to his head. Keith looks up at him, startled, and Shiro wonders if it’s his imagination, or if he really seems... nervous?

“Keith, you know I wo--”

He’s interrupted by Coran, who, true to form, has impeccable timing. “Shiro, Keith! There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night!”

“Coran, can it wait? We’re kind of in the middle of…” Shiro trails off when he turns toward Coran, staring.

Coran isn’t alone. He’s smiling, but it’s a fixed kind of smile, a bit too wide with a few too many teeth. Behind him is a complement of at least ten people, armed with handheld and floating cameras, microphones on long poles, and folded tripods. They seem to be led by a humanoid alien with four arms, wearing a Garrison security clearance badge on an orange lanyard. Shiro recognizes his species immediately - Krellian. 

“What is this?” Keith’s coarse voice asks from beneath Shiro, making him realize he still has him pinned against the wall. He steps away quickly, giving Keith some breathing room.

“It seems like the news of your, ah, announcement has spread rather quickly!” Coran says through his teeth, still smiling, “And the media on planet Krell wishes to film a documentary of our young lovers! It’s all very exciting, isn’t it!”

“A. Documentary.” Keith deadpans, enunciating each word separately, “About. Us.”

“Yes!” Coran is all but screaming now. This obviously caught him by surprise, too. “It appears they think getting a glimpse of your lives behind the scenes of all the everyday rescuing and liberating will ensure a great increase in public support of the Coalition on Krell!”

Shiro takes a breath, then shuts his mouth as his words abandon him in the face of this absurdity. It’s only on his third try that he manages, “Let me get this straight. You want to make a movie. Of myself and Keith. Together?”

“Yes! Starting right now! Isn’t that marvelous!”

He stares at Coran, then at the film crew. This can’t be happening. He tugs on his uniform jacket, ostensibly to straighten it, but really just to hide his sudden nerves. Keith had been cagey about just one kiss. And now they want to follow them around and _film_ their enforced, enacted intimacy, no privacy, no chance to talk about what’s happening, broadcasted to an entire planet for their entertainment. With their alliance with said planet at stake if they fail to live up to the people’s expectations. If Shiro were to list all the things that could possibly go wrong with this arrangement, he’d need a bigger datapad.

“ _Twenty-Four Hours With Sheith_ , is what they’re calling it!” Coran yells, “Haha! It’s a mix of your names! Sheith! Isn’t that cute!”

Behind Coran, the leader of the film crew is giving him and Keith an enthusiastic thumbs-up with three of his hands.

Shiro is almost too scared to look at Keith. This has spiraled out of control way too quickly, to the point where he isn’t sure any amount of damage control will be able to fix it. Twenty-four hours suddenly seems like an eternity.

“Cute,” he repeats after Coran, lamely, “Haha.”


	3. There was only one bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith chooses an unconventional seat for their first interview together. They find out the apartment Coran arranged for them only has one bed. Keith shares a secret, and invents kissing drills.
> 
> Excerpt:
>
>> Of course Keith, being who he is, and also because he can’t read minds, heads straight toward Shiro. Whatever Kheelzids is saying disappears in a rush of grey noise as, in front of all the cameras, fully illuminated by spotlights and ambient lights, and in full view of Kheelzids and the entire crew, Keith nudges Shiro’s thighs open and promptly sinks down on one of his knees.
>> 
>> Shiro’s body goes rigid. His mind goes white. Keith drapes one arm casually around his neck. It might as well be a noose.

"Let's get you all set up in your quarters, shall we!" Coran all but shouts, taking Shiro's arm in a firm grip and pulling him along. 

Shiro stumbles, too startled to fight the Altean. "What's happening, Coran?" he hisses, just quiet enough not to be heard by the camera crew or Keith, who is inexplicably walking beside Coran as if he knows exactly where he's going. Behind them, the crew hurries to gather their equipment, slinging black canvas bags over their shoulders and flipping open camera viewports to capture the journey as they jog along, their shorter Krellian legs struggling to keep up.

Tugged helplessly along in Coran's iron grip, Shiro exchanges glances with Keith, who mouths " _just go with it_ " at him from under one of his signature frowns.

Just go with it. Right. Shiro is adaptable. He can 'go with it'. He relaxes and allows himself to be lead, trying to make it look confident, as though he knows where he's going.

Coran leads them past the training rooms and weapons labs and R&D, to the staff wing on other side of the Garrison. Shiro expects them to stop in front of his room, or Keith's. He's already rehearsing what he's going to say when the camera crew asks why he and Keith don't live together - something about liking their independence or, maybe, being too used to the cramped space inside the Lions. Something like that. 

But Coran passes right by Shiro's room, and then Keith's as well, heading instead down one of the side corridors to where the more spacious family quarters are located. Shiro's visited Sam and Colleen Holt here, at their home away from home when they stay at the Garrison for extended periods of time. Their apartment has been empty for weeks, with Sam and Colleen permanently relocated to the Atlas, Matt off-world helping the rebels with liberation missions, and Pidge staying with the rest of the Paladins in quarters with closer access to the Lions.

It's in front of that familiar door that Coran stops, however, surreptitiously pulling Shiro to a halt when he would have passed it. "Here we are!"

"... Yes." Shiro says, eyeing the door trepidatiously while rubbing the spot on his upper arm where Coran's fingers had taloned in, "Uh. Here. Here we are."

Coran keys open the door and they all go inside. It's the same generously sized open-plan apartment Shiro remembers, sectioned into a small living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Their boots sink into a soft, off-white carpet as they step in, looking around. The standard Garrison-beige walls are covered in white-green wallpaper featuring little vines and fine flowers, and a small forest of cascading ferns and bamboo palms decorates one corner of the lounge. Colleen's trademark.

The only change to the apartment is the photo frames. Colleen used to have hundreds of them, filled with frozen moments of her memories. Photos of Katie as a baby, Matt's first prize at the school science fair, she and Sam on their honeymoon on the second Lunar colony - all of them from before the ill-fated Kerberos launch. No photos after that, not until recently.

All of the frames are gone, and he apartment looks empty without them. Shiro tries to make eye contact with Coran, but the Altean dodges him, directing the rest of the camera crew inside. They don't wait for an invitation and immediately start to set up in the living room, arranging spotlights around the room and balancing a tripod on the small, round dining table. The walls turn white in the bright light. Stark shadows create dark angles on the carpet. Plants get moved aside to accommodate kit. 

Shiro takes Coran by the arm, pulling him to the side and speaking softly: "The Holts'?"

"It was the only suite available on short notice. Plus, it looks lived-in!" Coran mutters from the corner of his mouth. 

Shiro fights the urge to sigh. He supposes he should be grateful for small miracles. "Thank you for this, Coran."

"Yes, well," Coran seems quite pleased with himself, "All in a day's work."

"But." Shiro glances at the camera crew. "This is... all happening very quickly."

"I know." Coran sighs. "I tried to stop them, tried to field off their requests, but I'm afraid they were as stubborn as a _nuuskob_ stain. Just try to make the best of it, alright, Shiro? They'll be gone before you know it."

"We'll try. It's just that Keith and I haven't really had a chance to talk about this. And I don't know if I'm comfortable with lying... to this extent."

"Aw, chin up, Number One. Just act normal with Keith. No one will be able to tell the difference."

He flashes Shiro a bright smile, pats him on the shoulder, then all but runs out of the room, leaving Shiro staring after him. He blinks. ' _No one will be able to tell the difference_ '? He and Keith don't act _that_ intimately in public.

Do they?

"Commander," the leader of the film crew draws his attention. When Shiro turns, he finds the crew arrayed around the table, microphones dangling, lights glaring, and cameras rolling, an almost palpable air of anticipation in the room as they all stare at him, waiting. "We're ready for you."

_Oh. They're ready. Right now. That's fine. This is fine._

He makes his way over to the table slowly, sinking down on the only available chair and trying to think of the most diplomatic way to tell the crew just how not ready he is for all of this. "I thought we'd have a little time beforehand to prepare."

"We prefer to have everything unscripted, sir," the leader - Kheelzids, according to his name tag - states, shuffling what appear to be a number of cards with questions written on them in a language Shiro can't read.

"... Great..." He glances around surreptitiously for Keith, and finds him exploring the rest of the apartment behind the crew, trailing his gloved hands over the walls and cabinets and poking at the pillows on the Holts' two-seater couch. In lieu of ordering him to get his butt over here, Shiro turns his best Garrison-poster-boy smile on the camera, folding his hands on the table in front of him. _We don't have a choice_ , he keeps reminding himself. _The Coalition needs this._

Kheelzids settles on a card. "We'll start off with a few simple questions, if that's alright, Commander Shirogane."

"Just Shiro, please." The smile stays firmly frozen in place.

"Thank you. Shiro, then. These are lovely quarters you have here at the Garrison."

Two dull thumps draw Shiro's attention away from Kheelzids and toward the small kitchenette. He squints slightly to see behind the bright spotlight: it's Keith, kicking the door of the mini-fridge in frustration and muttering "how do you _open_?". 

Shiro snaps his gaze back and forces his smile wider, talking over the dull thumps before they can distract the crew. "Yes. These quarters are nice. We're very comfortable here."

Thankfully, the cameras stay focused on him, and Keith seems to lose interest in the fridge. Kheelzids looks down at his cards. "My first question is one that's been at the top of all the national polls and on the tips of everyone's fleezarks for the last few quintants. Can you tell us how you and Paladin Keith first met?"

Shiro swallows a sigh of relief. This one is easy. "Well, back then I was working as a recruiter for the Garrison, traveling around the country to different schools to try and get students to join up. Keith's school was one of the ones I went to."

"I see. So he was quite young."

Shiro nods, eyes flitting to where Keith has appeared next to Kheelzids, weaving through the crew and looking around for somewhere to sit. The only three chairs at the dining table are currently occupied by Shiro, Kheelzids and one of the cameramen. Shiro freezes when his eyes meet Keith's.

_Keith, no._

Of course Keith, being who he is, and also because he can't read minds, heads straight toward Shiro. Whatever Kheelzids is saying disappears in a rush of grey noise as, in front of all the cameras, fully illuminated by spotlights and ambient lights, and in full view of Kheelzids and the entire crew, Keith nudges Shiro's thighs open and promptly sinks down on one of his knees. 

Shiro's body goes rigid. His mind goes white. Keith drapes one arm casually around his neck. It might as well be a noose.

Vaguely, he hears Keith say, "Actually, I stole his car...", hears him relate the rest of the story, but his entire capacity to reason is currently filled with and overridden by a repeating mantra of _Keithissittinginmylap._

He focuses on his breathing, eyes staring fixedly ahead.

Kheelzids asks Keith a few more questions about their time in the Garrison, and while Shiro may be having his own private meltdown, Keith, on the other hand, seems totally relaxed. His voice is level and his answers short, but honest. He looks just like he could be having a normal conversation with any of the Paladins, shrugging off and evading questions he isn't sure how to answer while engaging fully with those he finds interesting. He seems so _natural_. And this is Keith - the Keith whom Shiro doesn't think he's ever heard say more than five words in a row in public. How is he suddenly so _good_ at this? The fact that he can function at all while nestled snugly in the crook of Shiro's hip is a mystery. 

But then, Shiro reminds himself, Keith doesn't feel the same way. He doesn't know about those long nights filled with Shiro's fantasies of what it might feel like to be together. For Keith, sitting in Shiro's lap - all of this - is just an act, one day of pretending before going back to the way things were. The warmth of his body fitting tightly against him, the way his weight presses into his stomach, the reality of having him so close after wanting it for so long - these are pleasures that belong solely to Shiro's imagination.

Shiro swallows dryly, then slowly, tentatively, slips an arm around Keith's waist, hugging him closer. If Keith wants to pretend, Shiro can 'pretend', too. No matter that he's wanted to touch him like this for years. Keith doesn't need to know that. No one does. This is what normal couples do, right?

Keith freezes. 

He stumbles over what he was busy saying. His breath hitches slightly, and his back tenses against Shiro's chest. He glances down subtly at where Shiro's arm is resting over his thighs and Shiro starts to panic - he's gone too far. He knows Keith doesn't like being touched if he isn't the one initiating it. He should have asked for permission first, checked with him to make sure what his boundaries are. The fact that they haven't had time to discuss this whole situation is irrelevant - he could have waited until they were alone. He should have.

Shiro silently berates himself. First the kiss in the mess hall, and now this. He's letting his feelings for Keith cloud his judgement, making him go too far. He's crossed the line, and he needs to reign himself in.

He starts to pull away, but then Keith relaxes into his arm, bowing his back a little to press against his shoulder. A gloved hand comes to rest on his wrist, keeping his arm in place. Shiro wishes he could glance at Keith, check in with him even just visually. But he's afraid to do anything that might clue the camera crew in to the fact that this is all just an act, that they've never been this physically close before, that this is so very new to both of them.

So Shiro lets his arm rest over Keith's thighs, lets the heat of Keith's body seep into him, and eventually, even starts to enjoy it. He manages to answer a few more questions, shoving his keen awareness of every smallest movement of the body on top of him to the back of his mind.

Shiro only hopes Keith isn't pressed tightly enough against him to feel the way his heart is hammering in his chest. 

The rest of the interview passes in a blur. There may be ten more questions, fifty, a hundred. Shiro isn't sure. The next thing he becomes fully aware of is the crew packing up: cameras disappear into canvas bags and light-diffusing umbrellas are folded into neat little bundles and cables are wound around multiple arms before being stowed away in their boxes. Before he can entirely catch up with what's going on, they've disappeared with the promise to return before breakfast the next day, the door hissing shut behind them and leaving Keith and Shiro in a silence so deep and sudden Shiro almost imagines his ears ringing.

It becomes awkward, fast. Shiro shifts lightly, very mindful of the fact that Keith is still sitting on him. And if he doesn't get up soon, Shiro isn't sure he can control his body's reaction to having him this close much longer. 

"Keith--" he starts, but then Keith is moving his arm away and getting up.

"I'm going to bed," he says, not meeting Shiro's eyes.

Shiro hurries to stand, grabbing Keith's wrist before he can leave. "Keith. Wait. Let's just talk about this..."

"There's nothing to talk about." Keith's eyes flicker up before moving to a point somewhere past Shiro's shoulder. "This is just like any of the other missions we've been on. All we gotta do is convince the Krellians we're really together, then everything can go back to the way it was." He pulls his wrist out of Shiro's hand, crossing his arms.

Shiro sighs. "I just don't want this to ruin things between us. Honestly, I'm not sure I should be the one taking the lead, here. I don't know how comfortable you are with any of this."

"You've always been our leader, Shiro. First with Voltron, and now with the Coalition. Why should this be any different? Just keep doin' what you do. I'll tell you if you go too far."

"Are you sure?" Shiro frowns. 

"I'm sure. Now can we please go to bed? I'm beat." Keith's tone is final, and brooks no arguments. Shiro knows him well enough to know that he won't get any more answers. When Keith shuts down like this, there's no talking to him. But he gets the feeling there's something Keith isn't telling him. He's edgy, guard raised. His posture is closed off, hunched over. He still won't meet Shiro's eyes.

Shiro suppresses another sigh. Maybe a night's rest will do them both good. They can talk about it again in the morning. For now, Keith says this is all fine with him, and Shiro has no choice but to take him at his word.

"Alright." He reaches out to squeeze Keith's shoulder. "But you can always be honest with me. About anything. I'll always listen. You know that, right?" 

Keith inclines his head once, then pulls away from Shiro and heads to the bedroom. Shiro stares after him thoughtfully, absently rubbing his palm over the knuckles of his Altean hand.

His thoughts are interrupted by Keith's voice, coming from the direction of the bedroom hesitantly: "Uh... Shiro?"

Shiro hurries to the bedroom, then freezes inside the doorway. 

Of course. 

The Holts' bedroom is very pink. The wallpaper is pink. The curtains are pink. The rug is pink. The towels draped on the hooks by the bathroom door are pink. And so are the pillows and duvet on the bed. 

The only bed. 

Of course the Holts share a bed. Why wouldn't they? They're married. It just somehow didn't occur to Shiro until right this moment that he and Keith would have to share one, too. 

From the way Keith turns to exchange a glance with him, it looks like this is not something he has thought about, either. Shiro knows he said he would follow his lead, knows he could probably push this if he wanted to, that Keith would probably accept it if he said they have to share the bed to keep up appearances for whatever reason even with the cameras absent. But his sense of decency would never allow it. No matter how often he's thought about - dreamed about - sharing a bed with Keith, his actions earlier today have proven that he can't be trusted not to take things too far, not with Keith right there next to him, snuggled up against his chest, with that very kissable mouth just inches away. And now that he knows what Keith tastes like, he isn't sure he can control what he'll do in his sleep, and the last thing he wants is to wake up to an accidental boner and Keith's horrified face. 

So he says, a little too quickly, "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor." 

" _You_ take the bed," Keith argues. "Old timers need their beauty sleep."

"Ha ha," Shiro deadpans. "I'm serious. I'll take the floor."

"I don't mind," Keith protests.

Shiro holds up a hand to stop him. "I always sleep on the floor, anyway. I'm more comfortable there." It isn't a lie. The bed in Shiro's own quarters is new and untouched, and no one has been in there to see the pile of pillows and blankets heaped on the floor next to it.

At this, Keith looks genuinely confused, like he somehow knows Shiro isn't just making this up. He asks, slowly, "... Why?"

"It's stupid, really." Shiro starts, slowly. He hadn't been planning on telling anyone this. But then, he'd just asked Keith to be honest with him, assured him that he would always listen. It would be hypocritical of him to hold back now. Besides, it might prompt Keith to be more open with him in return. "Back when I was Zarkon's prisoner... that year on his ship... Having a bed was a luxury we weren't allowed. Our cells were empty - three walls and a containment field. Nothing else. I managed to win a torn blanket off one of the other prisoners in a bet, but that was it. That was all I had."

Keith is looking at him quietly, face unreadable.

"After I escaped," Shiro continues, "the bed in my room on the Castle of Lions felt... It was just... uncomfortable. Too soft. I'd feel more tired when I woke up than I did before I went to sleep. So I moved back to the floor, and I've been sleeping there ever since..." He shrugs, trailing off.

The silence stretches between them. Keith is quiet for so long that Shiro can't figure out what he's thinking. He's about to ask when Keith turns to the bed and starts tossing pillows to the floor, tugging the blankets and sheets out of their corners and creating a small mountain of bedding at his feet.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"We can both sleep on the floor," is all Keith says, as if it's that simple. He kicks off his boots and folds his gloves neatly on the dresser, and oh, okay, now he's taking off his uniform jacket. Which is. Totally fine and expected. 

Shiro watches as Keith strips down to a black T-shirt and boxer shorts. It's not until he asks, "You comin'?" standing in the middle of the room, dressed like _that_ , with his hands on his hips and an expectant look on his face, that Shiro realizes he's been staring.

He undresses mechanically while Keith creates a haphazard pallet on the floor, punching the pillows into submission before lying down. Shiro sinks down next to him in his tank and boxers, keeping a careful distance between them. They both stare at the ceiling. Shiro already knows there's no way he's getting any sleep tonight, not with Keith's body radiating heat and his arm brushing against him with every small movement.

He's just started mentally rehearsing some of the Atlas' and MFEs' battle formations when Keith says, "I still don't understand why you wouldn't just say 'business'."

Shiro blinks. "What?"

"Why 'biznack'? Why not 'quiznack'? Or 'business'? Simple English. It doesn't have to be complicated!"

"It's Lance," Shiro says, as if that explains everything. Which it does, in a way. "He likes to complicate things."

"... I have a confession." 

The abrupt change of subject makes Shiro frown. He turns his head on the pillow.

Keith keeps his gaze on the ceiling. His voice is suddenly soft, matter-of-fact. "That was my first kiss." 

The words land like a punch to the gut.

Shiro half reaches to him, aching, but stops just short of touching. "Keith, I'm sorry."

Keith looks at him. "What for?"

 _What does he mean, 'what for'?_ "I'm sorry your first time had to happen like that. I'm sorry it had to be a lie. I'm sorry it couldn't be with... with someone you really care for." The words hurt as he says them. He doesn't add that he wishes _he_ could be that somebody for Keith, that he's wanted to be that somebody for some time.

Keith only shrugs, turning away again. Shutting down.

"You know..." Shiro says carefully, after a moment, "Technically, that was my first kiss too." 

"How?"

Shiro gestures at himself with his Altean hand. "This is a new body."

"Hmm." Keith stares at the ceiling, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. "Well. Since it was the first time for both of us... I think we should practice some more."

"Prac. Practice."

Keith, completely unaware of the exact shade of bright red Shiro has suddenly turned, nods. "So it looks like we know what we're doing. We need to run drills. Kissing drills. For the cameras."

"Cameras." Shiro repeats. "Uh huh."

He barely has time to process what's going on before Keith has rolled over and is leaning up to kiss him. 

It's soft at first, the barest brush of their lips together. Keith's hand comes to rest hesitantly on Shiro's chest. His hair tickles his forehead. His breath ghosts over his cheek where he mouths against him, wet and light. His eyes are closed. 

Shiro's are wide open. 

He swoons up into it, suddenly needy. Keith wanted this, he initiated it. No reason for Shiro to hold back. He rests his palm on Keith's cheek over the scar and pulls him closer. Keith's lips are slightly chapped and he tastes sweet. On Shiro's chest, the imprint of his palm becomes heavy as he leans on him to get closer.

Shiro nips at Keith's lips and murmurs "Open for me,", and when Keith does he presses his tongue into his mouth to taste him there. One of them makes a soft sound, breathless and hungry. Shiro lets his arms close around Keith's back, pulling him in.

It's a bit clumsy, a bit awkward, and the most perfect kiss Shiro's ever had.

After what feels like an eternity, Keith pulls away. Long seconds pass where all they do is stare at each other. Keith breaks eye contact first.

He says, "I think I'm gettin' the hang of it."

Shiro smiles at him, trying to hide how fast his heart is racing. "I think we should try again, just in case. Practice makes perfect."

Keith pokes him in the ribs, then leans down to kiss him again.


	4. There was only one hoverbike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important conversation is avoided yet again. The camera crew follows them on a romantic picnic date. A revelation makes Shiro wonder if his feelings for Keith could be returned.
> 
> Excerpt:
>
>> Having Keith pressed so tightly against him may be helping. It feels like his body was made to fit against Shiro’s back in this way specifically, like his arms were tailored to the exact length needed to wrap around him, like every muscle in his legs was sculpted to align with Shiro’s perfectly, without gaps. The way he clings to Shiro’s back is a sweet and delicate kind of torture. It’s not fair that Keith is so _good_ at pretending. Feeling every minute shift of his body, every small hitch of breath, is bad. Knowing that it has to end when they reach their destination? Unquestionably worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that we’ve passed the 10k word count mark and they’re _still_ being dumbasses about it, I guess it’s safe to add the “slow burn” tag to this... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Shiro wakes up sweating lightly, overheated by the blankets and the body next to him. They're hardly touching, but Keith is like a furnace. He radiates enough heat under the covers to border on the edge of uncomfortable, but Shiro doesn't want to move. Not yet.

It's early. Shiro's internal clock never lets him sleep in: years of early-morning drills at the Garrison, followed by his imprisonment on the Galra ship never knowing when he would be pulled from his cell to fight, and later, the constant hyper-alertness brought on by fighting a war - these things have ingrained in his body a kind of aversion to sleep, to giving up control like that. Having Keith's warm body right next to him isn't helping. Shiro is surprised he got any sleep at all with the way their legs are brushing together, the fine hairs on Keith's calf just tickling Shiro's knee. 

He takes a moment to admire Keith's face in the grey, pre-dawn dimness of the room. It's relaxed in a way it never is when he's awake, and beautiful despite the thin line of drool pooling on the pillow beneath his mouth. It makes Shiro smile.

They'd 'practiced' kissing late into the night, starting with tasting the insides of each others' mouths and eventually tapering off into the barest graze of their lips together, sleepy-slow and gentle, until they couldn't keep their eyes open anymore. Then Keith had said, simply, "Good night," and rolled over, and gone to sleep, leaving Shiro staring at the back of his head for hours.

Now that he's woken up with Keith facing him again, he can't help himself. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair back behind Keith's ear with his human hand. His fingertips freeze on the edge of the delicate shell as it makes Keith sigh in his sleep with a long, drawn-out purr. Shiro is so enamored by this that he strokes Keith's hair again, and again, helpless against the need to hear that continuous deep rumble. He settles into a slow rhythm as Keith starts purring in earnest, letting the fine strands of black slip over and between his fingers even while feeling like a creep for touching him like this, in his sleep. He convinces himself that Keith wouldn't mind - Shiro's always touching his hair when they're awake, anyway. This isn't that different. Really.

The exact moment Keith wakes up is immediately noticeable in the small changes in his body. The purring stops and the muscles in his face tense minutely; the barest thinning of his lips and tightening of his brow. Shiro pulls away as though burned, turning onto his back.

In his periphery he sees Keith open his eyes. He pushes himself up on one arm, looking down at Shiro groggily. "... Hey."

"Good morning," Shiro manages to smile at him despite the way his heart is still hammering in his chest. He watches Keith warily, waiting for him to say something about the previous night. Waiting to gauge his reaction now that the light of day has arrived to illuminate all the secrets they shared in the dark.

Keith yawns and chews air, then blinks slowly, looking around the room. Not for the first time, he reminds Shiro of a cat. His voice is sleep-rough and syrupy thick when he remarks, "No cameras."

Oh. Business as usual, then. Shiro tries not to let his disappointment turn into frustration. Keith's shut down again, hedging around the obvious elephant in the room. He's done it enough times for Shiro to know that it's not an impenetrable wall - it's not impossible to get him to open up, if you just know where and how to push. The trick is not pushing too hard. There's a certain point past which the possibility of him opening up vanishes, and he just runs. And when Keith runs, he doesn't look back. So Shiro has to be careful. He's willing to follow Keith's lead, for now. "Too early." He shrugs. "I guess Krellians aren't morning people."

Keith isn't a morning person either. His hair sticks up wildly, frizzed, and he has dark rings under his eyes. He's inexplicably endearing, despite the morning breath. Shiro's seen him just after waking up before, of course, but never after spending the night with him.

His chest fills just thinking those words - he spent the night with Keith. And then his hands tighten in the sheets against the inevitable pang hot on the heels of that thought: he may have spent the night with Keith, but it was all a pretense. An act. 

"Keith..." He trails off, having started his sentence but not really sure how to finish it. Amazing how he can command the entire crew of the Atlas in battle, but when it comes to Keith, he still doesn't know what to say or how to say it half the time. A niggling seed of some nameless fear sits at the back of his mind, clogging the words in his throat. 

Keith is watching him, face unreadable, then turns his gaze away to say, "It was just one night. Look, I know the situation isn't great, but we gotta do what we can. The documentary is only supposed to cover twenty-four hours. Tomorrow they'll be gone and things can go back to... normal." There's an undertone to his voice Shiro can't quite place. This 'situation', as Keith termed it, must be bothering him more than he's letting on.

Shiro can't help but feel as though he's at fault, even though he couldn't have stopped the documentary from happening if he tried, and even though all of this was started by a photo of Keith with his hand in a place where it shouldn't have been to begin with. Still, guilt eats at Shiro, worsened by the fact that some part of him had actually thought Keith may have enjoyed kissing him last night. The fact that Keith is still pushing him away, unwilling to talk to him, seems to indicate otherwise. Which means that Shiro can't be sure his feelings for Keith aren't still clouding his judgement, that he _wants_ Keith to have liked it so badly his mind had tricked him believing he did. 

Keith gets up, scratching behind his ear. "I need a shower."

Shiro sighs out an "Okay," and is about to add something else when Keith takes off his t-shirt right there, and the words evaporate from Shiro's mind like smoke. He quickly averts his eyes as Keith shimmies out of his boxers, dropping everything onto a pile on the floor, and disappears into the bathroom completely naked.

They've showered together a number of times in the Garrison, and on the Castle of Lions with the other Paladins. This shouldn't be any different. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

And yet it is. 

Shiro's face burns. He covers his nose and mouth with his Altean hand, hoping the metal will go some way toward cooling down his sudden blush. _Get a hold of yourself. You're not a teenager anymore._

No amount of self-scolding seems to help, however, and he eventually decides that lying on the floor thinking about it isn't going to solve any of his problems. Maybe coffee will miraculously change the way he feels about Keith, or at the very least, offer a distraction while he finishes showering. He shoves the blankets aside and escapes to the refuge of the open-plan kitchenette.

Only Keith's left the bathroom door open while he showers, because apparently he has no shame, and the universe has no mercy. 

Shiro fumbles out two mugs and the coffee grinds and gets the machine started somehow, but his eyes keep flickering to the bathroom, to where the line of Keith's back can just be seen through the misty steam and rivulets of water on the glass door, corded muscle wet and glistening. 

It's torture.

He's in there a long time. A very long time. Shiro spends what feels like at least fifteen hours trying hard not to think about him in there, busying himself with the coffee and accidentally adding too much sugar to his. He's feeling only mildly more in control of himself by the time Keith finishes, stepping out into the room looking refreshed, hair tamed down and uniform freshly cleaned and pressed by the laundry machine.

Shiro mutters something about coffee and points him in the direction of the kitchen counter before grabbing his own uniform off the floor and escaping to the sanctuary of the bathroom. He closes the door firmly behind him. It's only a brief respite, but a cold shower is just what he needs to fully clear his head. By the time he's done cleaning up and putting his clothes through the machine to be pressed, he's feeling stronger and better resolved to face the day. 

That feeling disappears the moment he leaves the bathroom.

He couldn't have been longer than ten minutes, yet in the time he was gone, the camera crew returned and have somehow gotten set up in full. Keith is sitting in Shiro's chair across from Kheelzids at the small table from yesterday, sipping at his coffee and looking for all the world just like he's talking to an old friend. Three cameras are pointed at him, a microphone dangling above his head.

He looks up as Shiro comes in. "Just in time."

"Good... morning..." Shiro greets, slowly, coming to stand behind Keith.

Kheelzids fixes him with a brilliant smile. "Good morning indeed! Excellent morning! We were just about to get started."

"I thought the interviews were over?"

"They are," Keith says, tilting his head back to look up at Shiro, "They wanna follow us around today."

"Follow us around... doing what?"

"Just do what you would normally do!" Kheelzids quips, entirely too chipper for the early hour.

"Right." Shiro frowns slightly. Today is his day off, which is rare enough, but it also happens to be Keith's day off. Which never happens. In the months since their return to Earth, their schedules have hardly ever aligned. They see each other daily for training and missions, but they don't get to spend time together outside of that. Shiro had been looking forward to today for weeks. It's almost like the crew _knew_ , and chose this day on purpose.

"Well," he starts hesitantly, "I had been thinking about taking the bikes out..."

Keith's eyes light up at the suggestion. Apart from flying the Black Lion, hoverbike racing is his absolute favorite thing in the world. Being the cause of _that_ expression on his face is Shiro's favorite thing in the world.

His full mental schedule for their off day had included a movie in the Garrison lounge afterwards - though his definition of "watching a movie in the Garrison lounge" mostly consists of him watching Keith watch the movie and hoping no one notices. On some of those rare nights they've caught a movie together in the past, Keith would be feeling exceptionally physically affectionate and relax against Shiro, resting on his shoulder or lying down with his head in Shiro's lap. Those were the best nights, addictive in the worst way.

Being followed by three cameras listening intently to every word they say and monitoring their every action did not factor into his schedule. Shiro suppresses the urge to sigh.

Then again, if they're supposed to be dating, and the fate of the Coalition rests upon their being able to prove that they're together, what better excuse for Shiro to put his arm around Keith's shoulders and pull him close during intense scenes in the movie, just like he's always wanted to? What better chance for him to kiss the top of his head and let the smell of his shampoo follow him into his dreams?

Maybe this won't be so bad, after all.

With a plan half-formulated, the crew starts packing up.

Keith leaves ahead of them, ostensibly to get the bikes ready. With their gear stashed in their lockers in the hangar and the bikes maintained by Garrison ground crew, Shiro isn't sure what exactly he'll be 'getting ready'. But the small smile Keith fixes him with as he leaves, private and full of some meaning Shiro can't place, stops him from asking. Shiro learned in the early stages of knowing Keith that he likes being indecipherable, and that he's good at it. And that sometimes, it's better not to ask questions you don't really want to know the answers to.

The hangar seems immediately overcrowded when the crew bustles in behind Shiro. It's one of the smaller bays on the East side of the Garrison, where they keep older models of the MFE planes, rejected shield generators being stripped for parts, and the crew's private vehicles. The huge doors have been opened up to let in some fresh air, and sunlight diffused by the early morning desert mist streams through them, dust motes twinkling. 

The cordoned-off private transport area is bustling with activity. Ground crew in brown coveralls and snapbacks mill around as the rest of the Krellian camera crew mingle with higher-ups in Garrison rank uniforms. Matt Holt and his girlfriend are talking to an ambassador from Arus. Lance and Allura are sitting on an overturned crate, watching the bustle with their fingers linked together. 

In fact, the only ones that seem to be missing from the collection are Krolia and Kosmo. They've been away on a reconnaissance mission with the Blade of Marmora, and Shiro can't help but be a bit relieved that they haven't returned yet. The information they will hopefully bring back with them when they do is likely to be the final missing piece needed for the Atlas' and Voltron's next mission, meaning they would have to go back into the fray, and while he doesn't not enjoy the thrill of battle and the gratification that inevitably comes with each successful mission, he can't say he wouldn't miss the peace of these last few days on Earth either - despite all the chaos and pandemonium caused by that one cursed photo.

In the middle of the throng is Keith, easily identifiable by both his height, and the fact that Shiro's gaze just always automatically seems to find him in a room before anyone else. He spots Shiro immediately, waving him and Kheelzids over.

Shiro weaves through the crowd, politely budging through and turning sideways to squeeze past uniformed elbows. "Looks like everyone's turned up to see the documentary being filmed," he says through gritted teeth, mostly to himself.

"Yes, quite wonderful, isn't it!" Kheelzids answers anyway, "It looks like your planet is as enamored by the lovely couple as Krell is!"

Shiro doesn't quite roll his eyes.

They make it to where Keith turns out to have been standing next to Pidge, who is too short to have been seen over all the other heads. She jumps slightly when she spots him, hurrying to stuff what looks like a small wrench into her pocket and covering her nervous look with a smile. Suspicious. In lieu of a greeting, she says, "So, good news and bad news."

Shiro raises an eyebrow at her, almost too afraid to ask.

"Bad news is the shift mechanism in the transmission of Keith's hoverbike is busted." She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one finger.

Shiro frowns at Keith. "But you took your bike out last week and it was fine..."

"Yeah," he shrugs, crossing his arms, "Weird."

"Good news," Pidge continues while poking Shiro in the shoulder, "is that _your_ bike is totally fine. So you can share."

Oh. Good.

"Better news," Hunk's voice drifts through the crowd before he appears, stumbling his way slightly through the crowd and into their small private circle with a basket clutched firmly in both hands, "Is that I caught you guys in time. I can't believe you were about to leave without your usual picnic basket!"

"Our usual..." Shiro shakes his head a bit in question.

"Yeah, for your weekly picnic. You know. The one I always pack you a basket for?" Hunk says with a conspiratorial wink.

Shiro takes the basket being shoved at him dumbfoundedly, exchanging a glance with Keith, who is wearing his confused scowl. (Shiro has learned that this is not the same as his angry scowl, and is one of at least seven subtly different scowls he uses to express certain emotions when he isn't sure he likes having them.)

Leader of Voltron and Commander of the Atlas; arguably the two most powerful people on the planet, and they've just been double-teamed by Team Punk. At least some things never change.

They wait as the camera crew gets some close-ups of the hoverbikes, filming them from all angles for what will probably be a sequence of aesthetic montage shots in the documentary. When Shiro and Keith start gearing up, replacing uniform jackets with leather racing ones and slipping on gloves and goggles, this process is intricately followed as well, down to the minute details of which brands of gear they prefer. Keith, who grew up with hand-me-downs and whatever he could scrounge cheaply from thrift stores, just shrugs. So Shiro fills in for the both of them, because while he doesn't like playing into the stereotype, he also doesn't see any reason why you can't wear functional gear and look good at the same time.

When they're finally ready to leave, Keith clambers up onto the hoverbike behind Shiro and wraps his arms snugly around his waist. Around them, the camera crew is bundling into two of the Garrison's four-wheelers and the rest of the crowd is slowly dissipating as the excitement dies down in preparation for their departure, but Shiro can only focus on the way Keith's thighs line up with his own, the way the pull tab of his jacket's zipper imprints into his back. His heart rate spikes, fingers tingling as he reaches up to tug his goggles down over his eyes.

"You ready, old timer?" Keith's rough voice murmurs right into his ear, and no, he doesn't think he is. He's not ready for the shift of Keith's forearms on his stomach or the tickle of his hair in his neck.

But he can't say any of that. He swallows dryly, just nodding and kicking the bike into gear.

Everything fades the moment they leave the hangar. It's not just the rush of fresh air that makes Shiro feel like he can breathe again - it's the adrenaline, the speed, the wind in his face and the sun on his back. He kicks the bike up a gear, releases the throttle, and closes his eyes for just a moment, powerless against the grin he can feel spreading over his face. Another gear up and they're flying, hurtling through the Garrison's large double gates and out the other side. Shiro's heart races with the rush. It's addictive, makes him want to go faster, further, more, as far as he can. It always has.

Outside the pristine Garrison grounds is the wreckage of the world. They punch through the orange particle barrier and it's as if they're on another planet, on the other side of the looking glass. Where once stood the tall and stable structures of their society, skyscrapers and shiny glass fronts and neon signs, now there are only ruins; raw brick and exposed wire and twisted lead pipes, and everything covered in layers of grime and the memory of those who used to live here.

Shiro tries not to look too hard at what remains, takes the sharp corners and narrow alleyways leading to the city limits a little too fast, a little too recklessly for the camera crew to be able to quite keep up with them, but he can't bear it. It sits solid and hard like the stone of a peach in the very centre of his heart, the adrenaline rush from just a few moments ago dissipating and leaving him cold and filled with the dread of an uncertain future. It's a feeling he wishes he hasn't gotten so used to over the last few years. 

They'll rebuild. Here, too, eventually. 

But for now, it remains a city of ghosts he is all too glad to leave behind as they venture out into the desert. The way Keith's arms squeeze his waist tells Shiro he isn't the only one. 

The skeletons of tall buildings start to thin, and eventually become the bare bones of house foundations, and then signs of civilization disappear altogether as they escape into a sea of sand and rock. The desert is quiet in a different way than the dead city was, a quiet filled with life and hope. The rumble of the four-wheelers behind them and the constant drone of the hoverbike between Shiro's thighs create a two-part harmony overlaying the scattered twitter of birdsong and constant hum of cicadas. The warm breeze feels cold with the speed of their passing, and soon Shiro's cheeks are ruddy and his heart starts to fill again with the elation of the ride.

Having Keith pressed so tightly against him may be helping. It feels like his body was made to fit against Shiro's back in this way specifically, like his arms were tailored to the exact length needed to wrap around him, like every muscle in his legs was sculpted to align with Shiro's perfectly, without gaps. The way he clings to Shiro's back is a sweet and delicate kind of torture. It's not fair that Keith is so _good_ at pretending. Feeling every minute shift of his body, every small hitch of breath, is bad. Knowing that it has to end when they reach their destination? Unquestionably worse. 

Worst is the constant knowledge nagging at the back of his mind that none of this is real. The insistent thought that the moment those cameras leave Earth, all of this ends. And while Shiro is absolutely a _c'est-la-vie_ , appreciate-it-while-it-lasts kind of person in most circumstances, for this, he's just too selfish. He doesn't want it to end. He wants it to be real. If he had his way, they'd ride around like this all day, just them and the sun and the desert speeding by. 

Eventually, the constant awareness of the crew following close behind him penetrates through his little fantasy, and he starts making his way toward their usual rendezvous spot.

They dismount on top of a cliff with a view straight to the horizon, and Shiro would be lying if he said he doesn't immediately miss the warmth of Keith's body pressed against his back. Below them is the parched and cracked mosaic of the desert floor, behind them craggy cliff-faces and colorless sand dunes. In front of them is the steep drop and far below, the shadows of clouds moving like giant, lumbering dandelion fluff over the dust.

They throw open a picnic blanket amid tough clumps of arid desert grass and fine pink flowers. Keith places Hunk's basket gingerly to one side while the camera crew sets up all around them, making sure they'll be able to get every angle. The basket contains cured meats and thick slices of fresh bread, cheese cut into neat little blocks, small, round apples, washed and cored, and several bars of Shiro's favorite chocolate.

Shiro makes himself comfortable, going straight for the chocolate without preamble, suddenly realizing they never had breakfast and he's actually kind of hungry. Keith sits on his knees with his legs folded under him, nibbling on a block of cheese. From how tense his shoulders are and the way he can't seem to stop moving, the presence of the camera crew is making him a bit uncomfortable after being along with Shiro for the ride here. 

Shiro shifts a bit closer, putting a hand on his thigh. At Keith's questioning look, he breaks off a piece of chocolate, pressing it against his mouth. Keith narrows his eyes, but parts his lips enough to take it, chewing on it thoughtfully. In a moment, he slackens slightly next to Shiro, and with some more coaxing, soft touches and gentle smiles, eventually relaxes enough for them to make meaningless small talk while finishing their lunch.

Shiro loses himself like always in the sound of Keith's laughter, so rare and unexpected, that deep, rough voice lighting up with mirth. His smile is brilliant, eyes dancing as Shiro steers the conversation to a prank Lance pulled on Matt Holt last month.

It's in the middle of this conversation that Keith suddenly puts down his apple and leans into Shiro.

Shiro sways back, a reflexive response, but Keith swoons up into the space between them, catching Shiro's shoulder. He's close enough that Shiro can feel his breath move against his lips when Keith murmurs, "Just like we practiced," and kisses him.

It's unexpected and electric. Keith smells like the desert and the sun, and then his tongue is in Shiro's mouth and he tastes like white chocolate and apples. Warmth spreads through Shiro's chest, and his lips tingle, and it's even better than he remembers from last night. In his mind, it gets heavy, and slow, and intense. He imagines fisting his hands in Keith's shirt and hauling him closer into his lap, and suddenly Keith would be everywhere, all over and around him. He can almost feel his fingers buried in Keith's hair and Keith's thighs around his waist, and with his other hand, he'll push up Keith's shirt to reveal the creamy skin underneath...

He opens his eyes. They're still sitting across from each other. Keith pulls away from the kiss, his lips wet and pink, and Shiro has to turn away, fighting the blush threatening to rise to his cheeks.

From the side, Kheelzids clears his throat. 

Shiro, having almost forgotten the crew's presence entirely, startles a bit. Two cameramen and a short Krellian wielding a microphone on a long pole have gathered behind him. Apparently the interviews aren't quite over, yet.

Kheelzids ahems pointedly again. "Commander Shirogane. When did you first realize you were in love with Keith?"

The question catches Shiro off-guard, though he's not sure why. He isn't sure how much he can, or should, reveal. On the one hand, this is likely to be the only chance he'll ever get to tell Keith how he really feels about him without consequence. On the other, if Keith even so much as suspects that any of it may be true, he might run, and all of this could end in disaster, not only in terms of their friendship, but also the fragility of Krell's cooperation with the Coalition.

How did one simple photo suddenly turn into a game where the stakes are... _everything_?

Carefully, keeping his gaze on one of the cameras to avoid looking at Keith at all, he says, "I think I've always loved him. When I met him, he had this strength that I recognized in myself. This stubbornness. That's not why I love him, though. I love him because that strength didn't make him cold. He's so strong, so passionate, but also so sweet. So _good_ , at his core. He's the best parts of what I've always wanted to be."

He clears his throat, daring a glance to the side only to find Keith staring straight at him, unblinkingly, violet eyes boring into the side of his face. Shiro wishes he knew what he was thinking. 

Kheelzids smiles serenely, and turns the microphone on the Black Paladin instead. "And how about you, Keith? What made you first realize you were in love with Shiro?"

Keith doesn't skip a beat, and answers immediately and without hesitation, as though he'd been preparing the answer mentally. "Shiro's... everything to me. Without him I'd just be some kid in the desert lookin' up at the stars and wishing I knew what they looked like up close. He gave me that. He gave me the stars."

He looks away, shifting uncomfortably. Shiro stares at him, dumbfounded. Everyone is quiet. Keith's never been known to have a way with words, and Shiro knows saying all of that in front of all the cameras, in front of _him_ , took a lot.

But it's the way he finally looks up at Shiro that really makes him pause. For a second, their eyes meet, and it's so open, so fragile, and raw in a way Shiro's never seen before. 

Honest. 

A feeling like a light going on flares in Shiro's chest. For the first time the possibilities roll open before him and he allows himself to start wondering, for a split second, _what if_... what if he's been wrong about the way Keith feels all this time? Is that even possible? If it is, and all of this doesn't just have to be an act... For so long, he's clamped down on his own feelings because it never even occurred to him that Keith might return them. It was so beyond the bounds of possibility that he never even considered it. 

But _what if_?

All of this passes in the moment it takes for him to swallow dryly. Keith breaks their gaze. Shiro wills his heart to stop pounding. The rest of the questions are easier, less invasive, and pass in a barely-noticeable blur as Shiro tries not to keep staring at Keith.

What if?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for 100+ subscribers to this fic! Gosh you guys are great (;~;)


	5. The shit hits the Warfler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Shiro’s hopes are at their highest, things go terribly wrong during an interview, putting not only Krell’s cooperation with the Coalition, but also his future with Keith, at stake.
> 
> Excerpt:
>
>> The next second, quiet turns into chaos. The crew start yelling angrily in their own language as they scramble to pack up their gear. Cables are whipped around arms and lids are slammed on equipment boxes. Kheelzids appears in front of Shiro, leaning up on his tiptoes to scream right into his face, all four arms gesturing wildly. Shiro tries placating him with "Wait," and "Please, if you'd just give me a chance to explain,", but the Krellian is on the warpath, talking over him with a series of short angry grunts and squawks, and Shiro doesn't need to understand the language to know what _that_ meant.

The hangar doors rumble shut behind them, cutting off the last orange rays of the setting sun and leaving them in sudden cold after the heat of the desert day. It's emptier than before, with only a few technicians in oil-stained overalls milling around the workstations lining one of the walls. Shiro swings the hoverbike around and carefully into its bay before powering it down, and feels Keith slip off the seat behind him. As the bike ticks over beneath him, he takes a moment to himself, slowly slipping his goggles over his head and tugging his gloves off finger by finger, trying hard to ignore the tiny seed of hope burning like his own personal sun in the pit of his stomach.

Keith's words from their interview keep repeating themselves in his head. _He gave me the stars..._ The way he'd looked at him is burned into the back of Shiro's eyelids like an afterimage. 

Being in love with Keith isn't new to him. He's been in love for a long time now, a bittersweet kind of torture he's read about and seen in movies and never in a million years thought would happen to him, not after Adam, not after promising himself he'd never try to love another person and his job at the same time ever again. 

But with Keith, it was different. Loving him came so easy to Shiro that he was head over heels before even realizing that he liked him. Even though he's known Keith doesn't love him back, and that knowledge has been solid as rock, a fact that has become the foundation of his everyday life, and he's been nothing but helpless against it, resigned to being the silent watcher while patching up his heart day after day.

But the way Keith had looked at him earlier had split the rock of that knowledge open, tiny hairline cracks slowly filling with hope like gold. Shiro might be blinded by that hope, a fool in the face of potential. But he might also be right. And as long as there's that chance, he can't stay silent about it. He has to know.

He swings his legs over the hoverbike seat and slides off, turning around. "Keith, there's something--"

"Shiro, I need to--" Keith says, at the same time. 

Shiro jumps slightly. Keith had been standing much closer than expected, and they end up pressed almost right against each other when Shiro turns, each of their sentences trailing off. Shiro is suddenly keenly aware that Keith's riding jacket smells like the desert, that he has dirt on his knees. Keith's hair is wind-whipped and his cheeks ruddy from the cold air. He has to tilt his head back slightly to meet Shiro's eyes, still smaller than him despite his time-travel-induced growth spurt. Narrower. Slimmer.

"You go," Shiro prompts with a gentle smile, putting both hands on Keith's shoulders.

Keith is looking everywhere but at him. His tongue darts out to lick his lips lightly. "Shiro. I don't think I can--"

A bright flash of light and a pop of sound interrupts him as one hundred pounds of space wolf materializes out of thin air between them, bowling Keith to the ground. Kosmo settles on his chest and licks his face excitedly, making Keith laugh. He buries his hands in the dark blue fur. "Hey, boy..."

Shiro can't help but smile at the sight. Kosmo paws at Keith's shoulders, nibbling on his ears and chin, snuffling and squirming as though he were little more than a giant, oversized puppy.

And if Kosmo is back, that means... Shiro looks around to find Krolia heading toward them from where her shuttle is cooling down against the far wall, still dressed in her Marmora mission gear. Shiro didn't even see them when he brought the hoverbike in, too consumed by his thoughts about Keith. Dangerous. If he were on a mission, he'd probably be dead already.

"Shiro," Krolia greets with a small smile, interrupting his thoughts as she comes to stand beside him.

"Good to have you back," he tells her, and means it.

"It is good to be back."

They watch the space wolf roughhousing with his person a little longer, Shiro with his hands folded behind his back and Krolia with her arms crossed. Keith is chuckling helplessly on the floor, his smile brighter than the most beautiful sunrise. Kosmo is grunting and whining, wriggling around on top of him happily with his tail wagging excitedly. Two of the camera crew stop what they're doing, jogging over to film Keith's interactions with the giant wolf, if from a tentative and safe distance. 

Shiro breaks away from adoringly watching Keith's smile with difficulty, glancing instead at Krolia. "Was the mission a success?" 

"It was," she nods. "We were able to get intel on the raids reported by our allies. It appears to be a faction of Galran separatists led by Fentress, one of Commander Mar's ex-subordinates. Currently, their movements are limited primarily to acts of ravaging and plunder."

Shiro blinks, turning to look at her fully. "So... space pirates."

She smiles slightly at the comparison, then sobers up again. "I fear their activities may soon expand to more organized military incursions. Our agent on the inside reports that Fentress has her eye on Zarkon's treasury."

Shiro's eyebrows climb, and he whistles. "That's a whole lot of funding."

"Precisely," Krolia nods. "Enough to pay an army of mercenaries."

"That could be a problem for us," Shiro frowns. 

"At the moment, Fentress' group is small. It's unlikely that they'll succeed in targeting the treasury. But even if they do, it will be some time before she is able to gather such a force."

Shiro nods thoughtfully. "Enough time for us to strike."

"Indeed. And if we do strike and we so happen to liberate these... space pirates of their newly acquired funding at the same time..." She trails off, the implications hanging in the air heavily.

Shiro smiles slightly, nodding slowly. "Okay. I'd like you to report what you just told me to Allura and Coran. Keep it between us for now, until we're sure Fentress is actually planning a move against the treasury. Then we'll tell Iverson and the rest of Earth's commanding forces and plan a proper counter-strategy."

"Of course." Krolia inclines her head. They fall silent again for a bit, watching Keith introduce the camera crew (who look mildly terrified) to Kosmo.

"It seems there have been some developments while I was away," Krolia notes, giving the crew a pointed look.

Shiro chuckles a bit embarrassedly. "It's kind of a long story. I'm sure Keith will catch you up later."

"Oh, I'm quite familiar with Krell's affinity for documenting the romantic affairs of its celebrities."

Shiro snorts. "I'm not sure I'd go as far as calling us 'celebrities'."

"But you do not deny any romantic affairs?"

Shiro blanches, unable to fight the blush suddenly blazing on his cheeks.

Krolia pats him on the shoulder. "As the people of Earth say: own it, Shiro. This will be good for the Coalition."

He inclines his head, then pauses, giving Krolia a look from the corner of one narrowed eye. "You don't mind that your son being the other half of this... operation?"

Krolia smiles a little, mysterious smile. Before she can answer, or Shiro can speculate as to what it means, a Krellian crew member comes over to pull Shiro away, dragging him to where the rest of them have gathered in a small circle. Shiro glances over his shoulder, but Krolia has already disappeared with Kosmo, leaving him and Keith alone with the camera crew.

"We're ready for the next set of personal interviews," Kheelzids informs them, "So if you would kindly allow us to return to your place of domicile for filming, we would be appreciative."

They're hardly allowed a chance to argue before being bustled back to the Holts' apartment by their now-familiar entourage of waist-height, blue companions. The last rays of the setting sun bathe the apartment in orange, giving a warm, homey feel to the green wallpaper and sandy carpets. A patch of light forms a perfect square on the end of the couch, one in which Shiro has a fleeting mental image of resting on his back with Keith in his arms, napping the afternoon away. The image is soon banished by the commotion of the crew setting up their gear in record time.

They don't allow Keith and Shiro a chance to so much as take off their riding gear before a sound engineer grabs Keith by the sleeve of his jacket and propels him to the dining table. Shiro hangs back, crossing his arms and leaning in the bedroom doorway to watch.

A stocky Krellian wearing an apron fusses around Keith, dusting his cheeks with a large makeup brush and arranging strands of black hair around his shoulders. Keith allows it, if with a scowl and crossed arms. 

Meanwhile, Kheelzids is unpacking a different set of cue cards onto the table, these ones pink, with Krellian writing scrawled in neat lines on top. "This next interview will be kind of a test," he informs Keith, shuffling cards, "To see how well you know each other. First, we'll ask you questions about Commander Shirogane. Then, he'll have to answer a different set of questions about you."

"Uh. Okay?" Keith says, exchanging a glance with Shiro.

The makeup artist departs, cameras focus in on Keith, and a black clapperboard snaps as someone in the background announces, "Rolling!"

Kheelzids clears his throat. "Alright, Paladin Keith, you have blazzle hoochas to answer the following questions about your partner. Are you ready?"

Keith blinks. "Uh..."

Kheelzids flips the first card. "When is Shiro's birthday?"

"Oh, that's easy," Keith's lips twitch, "February twenty-nine."

"Would Shiro prefer to take a vacation in the mountains or by the seaside?"

"Seaside. I think."

He's right; Shiro loves the sea. He told Keith once that his grandparents lived on the coast, and that some of his fondest memories of them are of spending time in his grandfather's little fishing boat.

Kheelzids flips to the next card. "If Shiro were an animal, which animal would he want to be?"

_Cat_ , Shiro thinks immediately.

"... Animal?" Keith frowns. "I..."

"Time's up, next question. What is Shiro's favorite color?"

"Uh..."

Flip. "What is Shiro's least favorite body part?"

"Body part... his... arm? Probably?"

Flip. "Is there a nickname from his childhood he hated to be called?"

"Nick... What kind of questions are these?" Keith's frown deepens, and he shifts in his chair, starting to get visibly agitated. Shiro glances at the rest of the crew. 

Kheelzids turns the next card over. "Name one of Shiro's most embarrassing moments."

"How am I supposed to know?" Keith glares at the Krellian, voice starting to get rough. "'s not like he has a lot of those."

Unfazed, Kheelzids flips to the next card. Just as Shiro opens his mouth, half with the intention of at least getting the Krellian to slow down, if not altogether stop the interview, he gets interrupted by the next question. "Does Shiro want children?"

"Chil--?!" Keith stares, then crosses his arms, looking away. "This is stupid."

"What's Shiro's favorite position in bed?"

Keith splutters, eyes wide.

Kheelzids chuckles and adds, with a conspiratorial wink, "Only answer that if you want the speculation to end!"

Keith slams both his palms down on the table, pupils slitting and the sharpened points of incisors flashing as he snarls, "I don't know! I don't know any of this stuff!"

Silence descends over the crew. The Krellian holding the microphone fumbles it in the background. Kheelzids lowers the cue cards and tilts his head. "I don't understand..."

"I don't know what Shiro's favorite color is,” Keith says through gritted teeth, yellow eyes fixed firmly on the table beneath a scowl. "I don't know any of the stuff you asked!"

"Look, it's been a long day," Shiro tries to interject, taking a few steps toward the table, "Maybe it's time for us all to take a break." 

He may as well be invisible. Kheelzids is looking at Keith with narrowed eyes. "These are fundamental questions, Paladin Keith. Any couple in a relationship should be able to answer them."

"Well, we're not in a relationship!" Keith growls, fangs growing more prominent as he shoves his chair back and stands, "Okay? We're not together."

Shiro stares at him, wide-eyed and heart pounding, feeling roughly like a bucket of ice just got dunked on him. _What is he doing?_ He starts forward, Altean hand held out. "Keith, don't..." 

"What is this?" Kheelzids asks, "What do you mean?"

"It's all been one giant lie!" Keith shouts, and Kheelzids recoils, dropping his cue cards in shock. Keith gestures sharply, "It was an act. We were just pretendin' to be in a relationship, because the only reason _your planet_ joined the Coalition in the first place was to watch us be together, like, like some... kind of sick voyeurs. But you know what? If that's the only way we can get Krell to fight with us, maybe they're not the kind of allies we need!"

"Keith--" Shiro warns.

"No! I can't do this anymore."

"Keith!" Shiro yells after him in horror. But Keith ignores him to storm out of the room, and Shiro can do nothing but watch helplessly as in less than a few seconds, everything they've worked toward, their whole carefully-constructed life, falls apart right in front of his eyes. 

The silence left in Keith's wake descends over the remaining occupants of the room like a funeral pall. Shiro stares at the door he disappeared through in shock, and Kheelzids and the camera crew seem to be frozen in place. 

The next second, quiet turns into chaos. The crew start yelling angrily in their own language as they scramble to pack up their gear. Cables are whipped around arms and lids are slammed on equipment boxes. Kheelzids appears in front of Shiro, leaning up on his tiptoes to scream right into his face, all four arms gesturing wildly. Shiro tries placating him with "Wait," and "Please, if you'd just give me a chance to explain,", but the Krellian is on the warpath, talking over him with a series of short angry grunts and squawks, and Shiro doesn't need to understand the language to know what _that_ meant.

The crew bustles out of the room like a storm cloud, leaving Shiro alone. There's no time to process what just happened. Urgency spurs him into action. This is bad. If the crew reports Keith's outburst to Krell, it could jeopardize everything. The Coalition needs Krell's support, needs their financial contribution to the cause if they hope to form any substantial universal defense against the remaining Galra forces. And now, they're about to lose that support. He has to do something. 

Mind racing, he bolts out of the room after everyone, only to collide head-first with Coran. The Altean's shirt is uncommonly untucked from his pants and hanging loose, his hands free from their usual white gloves. He lifts his arms over the head of the camera crew as they stampede around him, making in the direction of the transport bay. Coran has to raise his voice to be heard over the tumult. "Now what's all this commotion about?" 

"How dare you lie to the citizens of Krell?" Kheelzids rounds on the Altean to shout in his face, with enough force to ruffle Coran's forelock.

Coran blinks, drawing back slightly. "What are you--"

"It was all a farce! One you shall pay dearly for!"

"I'm not sure--"

"Our leader will hear about this trickery!" A vein has started visibly throbbing on Kheelzids' forehead. "This deceit! This subterfuge!" 

"My dear Kheelzids," Coran holds his hands out, "if you would just calm yourself for--"

"You thought you could buy Krell's loyalty with your cheap lies? Krell cannot be bought!" 

With that, Kheelzids storms off, the thunder of tiny feet disappearing down the hall with him.

Coran wipes some spittle off his cheek, staring after him with a sigh. "Oh, quiznack." He glances at Shiro as he comes to stand next to him. "You'd better tell me what happened, Number One."

Shiro swallows, still reeling slightly from Kheelzids' outburst. "We... messed up, Coran."

"'Messed up?'" 

"In tonight's interview. We had to answer questions about our partner."

"And... you couldn't?" The confirmation turns into more of a question, a suspicious undertone to Coran's voice. "I'd have thought you two know everything about each other. You've been friends for so long."

Shiro is so used to apologizing for Keith's rashness that the lie comes as second nature. "No. It was... I couldn't answer their questions about Keith and they... must have figured out that he and I aren't really in a relationship."

Coran is looking at him quietly, those wise eyes flickering between his own.

Shiro looks away, rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling a bit.

It takes a moment, but Coran seems to decide he believes Shiro's story. For now, anyway. Shiro recognizes it for what it is: time is short, and if they are going to even attempt to do damage control here, they have to move fast. Coran puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. "Well, that was very irresponsible of you, Number One. You know how much is resting on the success of this mission."

"I'm sorry, Coran." Shiro dares to glance up.

The Altean seems to deflate, lowering his arms with an explosive exhale. "I suppose I'd better go and see if this is salvageable, otherwise our alliance with Krell is as good as a neezlub without its flartz. We'll have a long conversation about this later, alright?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, disappearing in the same direction as the film crew. Shiro squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden headache starting to throb behind his eyes, rubbing his brow tiredly with his Altean hand. The corridors outside crew quarters seem too empty after the tumult of the crew leaving, too quiet. 

The alliance with Krell, ruined. The Coalition's main source of financial support, gone. All because Keith doesn't know Shiro's favorite color.

It seems so stupid. So senseless. And yet, the horror of it looms over Shiro like an eclipse as the implications of what just happened finally start to sink in.

Keith's quick temper was one of the things that made him fall in love with him, but now, it may have cost them everything. And the worst thing is that Shiro can't do anything about it, helpless against the enormity of their failure. As far as the Krellians are concerned, he's a liar and a traitor. Anything he tries to say or do will only make things worse. So for now, all he can do is wait, and hope Coran's famous brand of diplomacy can somehow convince the Krellians to give them a second chance.

For lack of anything else to do, and because waiting around for Coran to come back and give him a dressing down is making him antsy, he heads off in the direction of Keith's room. They've been avoiding talking to each other long enough. For Keith to blow up like that means he's been bottling up some pretty serious emotions, meaning this conversation is long overdue. Shiro had been riding the high of having Keith so close, of what he'd thought had been an opening for them to become something more. He'd been so blinded. If he'd just been able to get Keith to talk to him earlier, all of this might have been avoided.

He doesn't meet anyone else as he winds through the complicated passageways of the Garrison, boots muffled by the dull, beige carpet, around the corner and into the smaller crew quarters all the Paladins stay in. Keith's door is five down from his own, and the only door in the hallway without a nameplate outside, because Keith doesn't like the sense of permanence that comes with attaching his name to things.

The door is slightly open, a triangle of light angling over the floor and part way up the opposite wall. Shiro lifts his hand to knock, but pauses when he hears Keith's voice from inside.

"It's just... things have changed between me and Shiro."

Shiro freezes.

"Everything is different now."

He dares to lean forward just a little, peeking through the crack, heart pounding. Keith is sitting on his bed with one arm around Kosmo, facing away from the door. All Shiro can see of him is the side of his face, the scar disappearing around the curve of his cheek. Shiro knows he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but something stops him from announcing his presence. Is Keith saying what he thinks he's saying? Things _have_ changed between them, at least for Shiro. He no longer sees the scrawny highschooler he'd had to coerce into the simulator that first day. Instead, Keith has evolved into a strong fighter with a bleeding heart, Shiro's guiding light back from the black precipice of death. Into everything Shiro ever wanted, and never thought he could have.

_Everything is different now._ Shiro's heart leaps, certain now that he was right before, that Keith does return his feelings. The kissing practice, the way he'd looked at him earlier, all of it makes sense, now. His outburst in the interview makes sense, too. Keith is an honest soul, and lying about their relationship hadn't sat right with him.

But if Keith returns Shiro's feelings, there's nothing stopping them from making that relationship real.

All the years of holding back, of quietly watching Keith blossom and grow while secretly wishing he could be right there next to him, seem suddenly so pointless when all he'd had to do was ask, and Keith would say yes, and they'd laugh about it years down the line. About how dumb they both were. How stupid and in love. 

But then Keith says, "Everything was fine between us. I thought I could handle being so... intimate with him. But now? Now I can't even face him anymore."

Shiro feels the earth open up underneath him.

"I just couldn't go on like that," Keith tells Kosmo, his breath hitching with held-back tears. Shiro can barely hear him over the rush of white noise filling his ears. "I wish things never had to change. That they could just be the way they always were before. I can deal with that. But..."

Shiro doesn't wait to hear the rest. He retreats from the door, pressing his back firmly to the opposite wall against the cracks slowly spreading through his heart. Shock roots him to the spot for a few moments, dissolving into disappointment, and then embarrassment. 

How could he have been so stupid? 

Keith sees him as a brother. He always has. A brother he's been forced to kiss in public. No wonder he can't look at Shiro the same way...

Shiro had been so wrong. Keith hadn't wanted to pretend anymore because he couldn't stand being intimate with him. It was a gross invasion of his personal space, one that Shiro should have noticed much, much earlier. 

Shame burns through him. He should have known better, but his feelings for Keith made him unable to think clearly. He should have seen it. Instead, he took advantage of Keith in the worst way, all while telling himself it was for a good cause. 

Keith isn't the one who ruined the alliance with Krell. 

Shiro is. 

Very quietly, and very resolutely, he turns away from Keith's door, and forces himself to walk slowly away when all he feels like doing is run.


	6. A new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro finally talk. Misunderstandings are resolved. Everything’s going to be alright.
> 
> Excerpt:
>
>> “Shiro,” Keith says then, with a look like he’s decided something important, “You’re a space moron, you know that?”

Coran, Allura, and Hunk leave for Krell at dawn the next day with a small security detail, having been unanimously nominated by the other Paladins and Garrison officers as the Coalition Members Most Likely To Fix Diplomatic Shitstorms. Hunk had somehow prepared an entire hovertruck's worth of catering overnight, complete with his famous pizza rolls, Yalexian flurz-pastries, and Kaltenecker shakes. They take the Altean shuttle Sam Holt brought to Earth, which Pidge has since modified to be FTL-capable (without exploding, this time - or so she promises).

The other Paladins gather in the hangar to see them off, squinting into the glare of the orange sun as the shuttle engine kicks up dust and whips their clothes and hair. Lance is still dressed in his pajamas with the Blue Lion slippers, and Pidge looks rumpled and tired, like she's been up all night again working on one of her projects.

She isn't the only one who hasn't slept. Shiro's eyes feel scratchy and tired, and he knows there are dark shadows under them. He has the start of an exhaustion headache, and his body feels heavy. He watches Keith from the corner of his eye. The Black Paladin looks guarded, arms folded over his red hoodie and head down, fringe hanging over his eyes. Shiro hasn't seen him since yesterday, and by the looks of things, he's spent the night awake, too. His walls are firmly up again, and Shiro doesn't know where to begin to try and breach them. He isn't sure he even can, not right now, not as raw as things still are between them.

Keith's words from the previous night still ring in Shiro's mind: _I just couldn't go on like that_ and _I wish things never had to change_. He wants to tell Keith he wishes that too - that if he could go back in time to before the Krellian film crew arrived and stop the whole thing, he would, and that he would give anything to have his Keith back, the old Keith, who smiles so rarely but so easily for Shiro, so sweet under that sharp and jagged exterior, always wanting to be close to him, always touching.

He doesn't say any of this to Keith, because deep down, some selfish part of him _doesn't_ want to change what happened. That part of him wants nothing more but to hold on to the memory of what it felt like to have him, really have him - to hold him close and kiss him until the stars fade - even if only for a day. It's loud, and big, and he wishes he could ignore it, but he can't.

He loves Keith. He still loves him. He won't ever not love him, even if Keith never loves him back. 

Shiro swallows a sigh, coming back to himself as the shuttle breaks through the atmosphere, tearing a strip through the soft cloud cover. As the roar of the engines fades, the ambient sound of the Garrison slowly starts to trickle in; the whine of a metal-saw, the low grumble of fuel trucks, and the far-off sounds of construction coming from the direction of the city.

"Let's just hope Allura can fix this mess," Lance mutters, scratching a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. To Keith, he says, "How'd you manage to screw this one up anyway, Mullet-head? You and Shiro are basically married. Joined at the hip. How'd this happen?"

"None of your biznack," Keith mutters.

"In case you forgot, this affects the entire Voltron Coalition, so it actually is very much my biznack, Keith." 

Keith growls, baring fangs at him and stepping right into his space. Before Shiro can get to them, Pidge is already there, squirming in between them and pushing them apart with surprising strength for such a small body. "Guys, come on."

Lance and Keith glare at each other a moment longer, before backing away. Pidge frowns at one, then the other, her glasses glinting in the morning sunlight. "We all had a hand in what happened here. It was our idea for them to pretend to be in a relationship for the documentary in the first place."

Lance grumbles in something like agreement, looking away.

Pidge pushes her glasses up her nose. "Fighting among ourselves isn't going to solve anything. All we can do right now is wait for Coran and Allura to get back, and hope the Krellians like Hunk's cooking."

"Everyone likes Hunk's cooking," Keith says. Pidge waves a hand at him as if to say, ' _exactly_ '.

"Pidge is right," Shiro says. "If anyone can convince the Krellians to give us a second chance, it's Allura. We can't do anything to help them from here, and we don't know how long this is going to take. I suggest we all just go on with our day as usual."

The other Paladins nod in agreement. Pidge says something about helping Colleen fix a broken conduit in the hydroponics lab. Lance yawns, stretches, and says he's going back to bed. They both trail away in the direction of the door, leaving Shiro alone with Keith.

Shiro wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. He starts a few times, but the words stop just short of his mouth, choking up his throat. Keith looks at the hangar doors, at all the shuttles and metal boxes of tools and fuel pipes jumbled on the floor like tentacles, and then he finally looks up at Shiro.

Their eyes meet for a second, and again Shiro wills himself to say something, anything, but his lips refuse to move.

Keith sniffs, eyebrows twitching, and walks away. Shiro watches him leave with hands folded behind his back and lips pressed firmly together, heart hammering in his chest.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Shiro does admin work, oversees some repairs to the hull of the Atlas, and drinks too much coffee. He goes over flight patterns for the new-generation MFE simulators with their pilots and programmers, and signs off on the plans for construction of a new hangar for the Atlas using the skeleton of one of Sendak's Zaiforge cannons.

He only realizes he accidentally skipped lunch when he notices the daylight starting to fade through the windows and his stomach starts to growl, hunger catching up to him all at once. 

He's on his way to the mess hall when he passes by the training room, and stops in his tracks. The room is empty except for one occupant, sharp punches and kicks echoing as he trades blows with Sam Holt's version of an Altean battle drone.

Keith's hair is tied up, his gray tank top sticking to his back with sweat. He wears gloves padded over the knuckles, and knee guards over his sweats. Corded muscle bunches in his arms with every swing, rippling down his back as he gracefully dodges the drone's kick.

Shiro knows he's staring, but he can't seem to pull himself away. He's seen Keith fight a million times before, of course. But now he knows what that body feels like pressed against him. He knows how it feels when those muscles in his arms shift beneath his hands, how it feels to thread his fingers into the back of his hair.

A loud crack echoes through the room. Keith tells the drone to deactivate, swiveling toward the door in one fluid movement. Shiro looks down in alarm to where his Altean hand had been resting on the door frame. The metal is dented, deep cracks spreading from between his clenched fingers toward the roof and floor. He pulls his hand away as though burned, staring at his white and silver palm, and then up at Keith.

Keith looks a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. He's breathing hard from the fight, strands of hair escaping to cling to his forehead and cheeks with sweat. His violet eyes are wide, hands half raised in front of him as though he thinks Shiro might attack him and continue the fight in place of the drone.

For the first time in what feels like forever, they're alone - truly alone. Keith's gaze is open, guard softened by the adrenaline of the fight. There's a heat there that is almost physical; something new for Keith, perhaps, but something that has always been there for Shiro. Keith calms his breathing and straightens, and walks up to Shiro slowly. Shiro fights the urge to run, roots his feet and strengthens his resolve. 

If he doesn't talk to Keith now, he might lose him for good.

"Shiro," Keith starts, slowing a few feet away from him, "I--"

He's interrupted by a loud chime over the intercom, a distorted male voice announcing the arrival of an Altean shuttle in Hangar Three.

Keith takes a deep breath, then closes his mouth slowly on the exhale.

"I guess Allura and the others are back," Shiro says, resisting the urge to reach out to Keith and touch him.

"I'll get changed," is all Keith says in reply, walking away from Shiro and toward the showers without another word.

Shiro puts his Altean palm over the cracked indent in the doorframe, resting it there for a second before slamming it down again and turning to leave for the hangar.

*

"So." Coran folds his hands on the table in front of him. "I have good news and bad news. And sort of in-between, moderate news that isn't really good or bad."

They're all gathered around the table in one of the Garrison's smaller conference rooms, bathed in the orange light of the large monitors lining the walls. Coran, Allura and Hunk had come straight here after landing, pinging an urgent meeting request to the other Paladins' datapads. The Blade of Marmora and other high-ranking members of the Coalition are absent; the disaster with Krell came about because of choices made by the Paladins of Voltron, so the Paladins of Voltron are going to fix it.

"I think we could all use a little good news right now," Allura sighs. She looks tired, slumped back slightly in her chair with her hair hanging in loose curls over her Garrison uniform jacket. Hunk looks worried next to her, and Lance and Pidge expectant on the other side of the table. Keith is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and face unreadable. He's changed into his casual black T-shirt and jeans and that ridiculous jacket he loves so much.

"Right, ahem." Coran tweaks the points of his mustache. "Well, the good news is that Kheelzids and the Krellian government have agreed not to go public with the fact that Shiro and Keith aren't really a couple."

"That's great!" Pidge perks up from where she'd been sagging into her chair.

"Not so fast, Number Five," Coran holds up a hand. "The bad news is that Krell has withdrawn their support from the Voltron Coalition, as we expected they would."

"But I thought you just said they were gonna shut their quiznacks about it?" Lance asks.

Coran sighs. "They've withdrawn on the grounds of political differences. No details have been released to the press."

"So the only favor they'll be doing us is not telling everyone why they're suddenly not cooperating anymore. Well, that freaking sucks," Lance voices what they all feel. 

"It could be worse," Shiro reasons. "They could have slandered us for lying to them. We should be grateful this hasn't turned into some kind of intergalactic scandal."

Hunk is still frowning. "Well, sure, but... didn't we kinda need Krell to be in the Coalition?"

Allura sighs. "Yes... Their financial support would have been an invaluable resource in our continuing efforts to liberate the remaining Galra-occupied planets in the system."

"Too bad Mullet-head ruined their chance at freedom," Lance says nonchalantly, lacing his fingers behind his head. "'Sorry, citizens of planet Helion 4, guess you're gonna be stuck mining crystal for the Galra for the rest of your lives because Mr. Stoic here couldn't keep it together.'"

"Lance, that's enough." Shiro admonishes.

"That actually brings me to my other news," Coran steers the conversation away before things can escalate. "Yesterday, Krolia and her squad reported a potential attack on Zarkon's treasury by a pirate known as Fentress. As I'm sure you all know, the Galra empire would have needed substantial funding to sustain their war for as long as they have. The bulk of all those credits would be in the treasury."

"What does a pirate space heist have to do with any of this?" Pidge asks.

"Well. We don't actually know whether Fentress has started planning an attack on the treasury or not. But if we could get there first..." Coran gives her a pointed look.

"Then we could take the treasury ourselves..." Pidge extrapolates, a calculating look in her eyes. "We wouldn't need Krell's support anymore." 

"Uh, wouldn't that be stealing?" Hunk interjects tentatively.

"Would it, though?" Pidge turns to him. "Technically, we'd be using the funds to help the people Zarkon exploited and enslaved. It's not like we'd be taking anything for personal gain. Besides, if the credits are just lying around there, what's to stop the Galra from using them against us?"

Lance adds, "And I doubt Zarkon became that rich by doing honest work, anyway."

"I guess," Hunk sighs. "It still feels... weird."

"We haven't agreed to do anything yet," Shiro assures him. "It's just an option. The Krellians may still come around." There's a brief silence in which everyone looks doubtful. He continues, "We'll need to discuss it with the rest of the Coalition before we can start planning, anyway."

"Alright then," Lance pushes his chair back to stand, stretching out, "So call me if we're gonna do this. In the meantime, there's a PB and J with my name on it in the kitchen, so. I'm gonna go." With that, he walks out. 

Keith uncrosses his arms, following. He hasn't said a single thing the entire meeting. Shiro's eyes trail after him, fighting the urge to get up and go to him. One by one, the other Paladins file out of the room. Allura stops next to Shiro and squeezes his shoulder lightly, eyes gentle, and then he's alone.

He massages his temples to try and alleviate the headache that's threatening to become a migraine, takes a deep breath, then gets up. He needs to think.

The Garrison is just in the arduous process of shutting down for the night. Corrugated metal garage doors rumble and squeak in protest as they get cranked down, the mess hall is alive with the sound of clinking dinner cutlery, and in the hallways, the night guard have just arrived, rifles slung over their shoulders and torches strapped to their belts.

Shiro walks the halls with no particular destination. He winds through the long corridors, passing the training room and R&D labs. He goes by his quarters and then Keith's, and stops briefly in front of the Holts' door. He considers going inside, but then he remembers the way Keith's body fit against his when they slept on the floor, the way his lips felt when they kissed, the shift of strong muscle in his thighs when he sat in Shiro's lap. 

He turns away.

It's not until he's standing in front of the door to the Lions' specialized hangar that he realizes where he'd been heading. He's not quite sure how he got there, but he's grateful to find some solitude, a brief kind of respite.

The hangar is cold inside, and empty, the quiet dark in stark contrast to when the Lions are active, blazing comet-trails through the stars. They sit now, colors muted and minds blank, patiently waiting for the Paladins' next call. Shiro's footsteps resound lightly off the walls. He's always liked coming here when the madness of their new life gets overwhelming, just to get away. Sometimes it's almost as though Black recognizes him. Most of the time, she just shares his solitude, a silent sentinel guarding his thoughts.

He rests his human hand on one of her giant metal claws, just touching. She's warm despite her silence, and feels somehow welcoming. He's probably just imagining it, projecting his need for closeness into the space she used to occupy in his mind.

For a moment, he considers talking to her - about the past, about their missions together with the Atlas. Mostly about Keith. But he hesitates, unwilling to share his personal failures with the other Lions, whom he imagines are listening as well.

So he just lets his hand rest on the smooth metal, letting the quiet of the hangar seep into him and turn into a deep sense of calm.

"Shiro." Keith's voice echoes, shattering that calm. It's rough, and hesitant, and Shiro's favorite sound in the world right then, despite the quiet fear it wakes in him. He doesn't know if he's ready to face him.

Shiro closes his eyes for moment, then turns toward Keith. His hair is loose and slightly mussed from his shower after training, his T-shirt untucked on one side. Not for the first time, Shiro is struck by how effortlessly gorgeous he is.

Keith says, "Can we talk?"

And Shiro supposes this has been coming for a long time. He can't run from it anymore, not if there's even the smallest chance of things between them going back to the way they used to be. Not if there's a chance they can just forget all of this even happened, no matter how much he relishes the fact that it did.

He inclines his head, taking his hand off Black's claw, and watches Keith approach with slight trepidation. Keith's hands are shoved firmly in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he's hiding. Standing in front of Shiro, he seems suddenly small and unfamiliar, like the new distance between them has changed him somehow.

He glares at Shiro, light from the open doorway he came through catching his eyes just enough to reflect violet. Shiro's expecting a tirade, a display of the famous fiery temper that got them into this mess in the first place. He's expecting a confrontation, an explosion of all the things that should have been said between them ages ago.

But all Keith says is, "I hate this.", his voice full of the past few days. 

"Me too," Shiro whispers. 

Their eyes meet for a moment before Keith breaks away to stare at his boots. 

"Look. I know you're still angry at me. I get that I messed up. I just... feel like there's this space between us now and I, I just want to fix it." He looks up at Shiro, eyes glistening. "I'll do anything."

Relief spreads through Shiro's chest like thick, warm honey. He feels light. He'd been half-sure Keith was going to tell him he never wants to see him again. He'd been terrified of it. But Keith wants things to go back to the way they were, too. For now, that's enough.

He grabs Keith, lifting him off his feet into a tight hug and ignoring his muffled 'oof'. "You have nothing to apologize for. Keith, you did nothing wrong." He lowers him slowly, moving his hands to his shoulders. "We never should have forced you into that situation into the first place. Lying to Krell about our relationship was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"Yeah well, I didn't have to go along with it..."

"All of us knew dishonesty wouldn't be a good foundation for an alliance. We knew lying about it was a bad idea, but we did it anyway."

Keith sighs, rubbing his shoulder with one hand and looking away. "Then why'd you agree to it?"

"Because I wasn't." The words escape Shiro's mouth without his intent or consent. He just says them, as though it's the easiest thing in the world. He doesn't know why - why now, why at all, when he just wanted things to go back to the way they were with Keith, when he quietly watched and wanted and Keith knew nothing.

Judging by the way Keith's eyes flicker up to meet his, astonished, he's almost as surprised as Shiro. 

Shiro can't seem to stop. It's as if he's suddenly outside his own body, listening to himself speak. "I wasn't lying. Keith, my feelings for you are real. I love you. I've loved you for a long time. I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

Keith is staring at him in shocked silence.

Shiro squeezes his eyes shut. At this point, he might as well tell him everything. "And I have a confession."

"You mean... other than revealing you're... _in love_ with me?" Keith asks slowly, still staring.

"Point." Shiro concedes. "Okay, I have another confession. I overheard you talking to Kosmo."

"Shiro, I talk to Space Wolf all the time."

"... About me. That you wish things never changed between us. That we could just be the way we were before." 

"... Oh."

"I'm... Keith, I'm so sorry. I never meant to put you in that position." He looks everywhere except Keith, silence stretching awkwardly between them.

"Shiro," Keith says then, with a look like he's decided something important, "You're a space moron, you know that?"

"..."

"Talkin' about this stuff isn't easy for me," Keith frowns, looking down, "But that's not. You. Shiro, you got it all wrong."

Shiro stares at him.

"I was able to hide how stupidly, madly, deeply in love I've been with you all this time." He grabs Shiro's arm tightly. "Ever since I was just a stupid kid in the Garrison. I pushed it down 'cause I never thought someone like you could ever love someone like me back. I'm no-one."

"Keith--"

Keith puts his palm squarely over Shiro's mouth. It's warm, a little clammy. "Just let me finish. I got away with it, got through each day thinkin' just seeing you was enough. Just touching you when I could. No one was ever supposed to know. And then that stupid documentary ruined everything."

He takes his hand away from Shiro's mouth, but Shiro stays quiet. He doesn't think he could speak right now anyway, not with the way his heart is pounding in his throat, not with the deep ache filling his chest.

Keith says, "Suddenly there was kissing and hand holding and sleeping next to you, and it was... so much. Being so close to you all the time changed everything. I couldn't hide it anymore, and I was so scared you'd figure me out and then things would be over between us. I didn't want us, what we have, to change."

Shiro wants to laugh. He wants to kiss him. Instead, he forces his hands to stay at his sides, clenching and unclenching his Altean fist. "Keith... Why didn't you just talk to me? You know you can tell me anything. Even if I didn't feel the same way about you - which is impossible - we could have still worked through it."

Keith is quiet for a beat, then, "Guess I was kind of a space moron, too."

Shiro does laugh, then, and hugs him, because in that moment it's impossible for him not to. 

Slowly, Keith puts his arms around him as well. It feels right, inevitable, like something that was always meant to be. It also feels a little unreal to Shiro, like he's stuck in a dream he doesn't want to wake from. 

Keith finally pushes him away, still looking uncertain. He says, "I was gonna tell you. When we got back from the picnic yesterday. I was gonna tell you I didn't want to do the documentary anymore. Everything just happened so fast, and that last interview? The one with all the questions... It suddenly made me realize I don't know you. At all. I'm in love with you, but I don't... I don't know you. And I guess it just all blew up and I just had to get out of there..."

"Keith," Shiro says softly, "You know everything that's important about me. That's enough. All those questions were just... surface things."

"I feel like I should know what your favorite color is, though."

"If you want to know any of that," Shiro says, bending slightly to try and catch his eyes, "all you have to do is ask."

Keith looks up at him. "You, too."

Shiro smiles slightly. 

"So? What is your favorite color?"

"It's the color of your eyes, Keith. That's my favorite color."

Keith groans and rolls his eyes, throws his arms around him, and leans up on his toes to kiss him. His whole body vibrates, the deep rumble of happy purring seeping through Shiro’s chest and into the space between his ribs.

" _Finally_!"

The purring cuts off abruptly and they jerk apart at the loud exclamation, whipping around as one. Allura is standing in the doorway to the hangar, blinking rapidly as though shocked by her own exclamation. The next moment she's rushing over to them, taking both their hands into hers.

"Uh. Hi." Keith says.

"I'm so happy this finally happened," Allura says, squeezing their hands, unable to fight her broad smile. "We were all so worried."

"You were?" Shiro asks.

"Of course! We were all so sure the documentary would make you realize your true feelings for each other at last. But when last night's... little mishap occurred, we were worried it may come between you. We thought we'd made a terrible mistake."

"'We'?" Shiro asks, still nonplussed. Keith is staring at Allura like she's grown a second head.

"Oh yes!" Allura nods. "All of the Paladins. It's clear to us that you two really care for each other."

"Wait," Keith says, "How long has this been goin' on?"

"We've always known," Allura says offhandedly, as if it should be obvious, then smiles brilliantly again. "What an auspicious occasion! When can we start planning the wedding?"

"Whoa," Keith splutters, dropping Allura's hand and pushing her away lightly at arm's length.

Shiro quickly says, "Okay, I think we're moving a little fast here."

Allura doesn't quite pout, but her eyes sparkle a little more than usual. "But a wedding would be the perfect way to repair the damages done to our alliance with Krell..."

Shiro sighs lightly, letting go of her as well to put a hand on her arm. "Allura, look. Keith was right. If us being in a relationship was the only reason Krell joined the Coalition in the first place, maybe they aren't the kind of allies we need."

Allura nods, shoulders slumping slightly. "I suppose you're right."

"Besides," Shiro squeezes her lightly, "There's always Zarkon's treasury."

Keith smiles at him warmly, coming up next to him and hugging an arm around his waist. He looks up at him. "So. Space heist?"

Shiro returns his smile, heart swelling, and nods. "Space heist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all the way to the end! I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> I’m overwhelmed by all the kind support this fic has gotten. It was originally supposed to be a short one-shot - things may have gotten a little out of hand ^^;
> 
> I’m kind of toying with the idea of writing a sequel to this where they pull off the space heist, with sheith trying to find their footing with their new relationship throughout the whole thing, but I’m not sure if anyone would be interested in reading something like that. I guess, if you’d like to see a sequel, let me know…

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/solooutomg) and [tumblr](https://narada-talis.tumblr.com/)~


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